Whole World Can Change In A Minute
by smc-27
Summary: She vaguely registers Quinn's sister saying things like 'car accident' and 'dead on impact' and 'they're gone, Rachel.' But who in the world would trust the man next to her with raising a child? Like it or not, they're in all this together. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This story is 12 chapters long. The idea was given to me by katertots, based on the not-yet-released movie,_ Life As We Know It_. I hope you like the first chapter!

... ... ...

He cannot wait to get this chick out of his truck.

Seriously.

Worst. Date. Ever.

"Well," he says, pulling up to her massive and crazy expensive apartment building. "Later."

She lets out a huff and glares at him. She doesn't even say goodbye before pushing the door open, getting out and slamming it shut.

He doesn't wait for her to be inside of her building before peeling away from the curb. If he's quick, he can get home in time to watch the last few minutes of the game and have a beer without someone judging him from across the table.

He'll be damned if he ever lets Finn and his wife set him up on another 'blind' date again.

See, he met Rachel at the wedding. And yeah, she's hot, but she's also a control freak who has a stick up her ass. He was trying to have a little fun, and she was pissing all over it. Forgive him for trying to make people laugh during pictures. And honestly, open bars are open for a reason: So that people can get loaded and dance and make some bad choices, then blame it on the alcohol.

But did he mention she's hot?

When Finn called him and told him Quinn had gotten her best friend (maid of honour, total bitch), Rachel, to agree to a blind date, Puck decided he'd be okay with that. Someone with that much of a control problem clearly needed to get laid. And yeah, the wedding was almost two years ago, so maybe part of him was hoping Rachel would have changed somehow and turned cool. It's totally a shame for a woman that sexy to be that hard to handle.

Finn and Quinn have gotten totally boring since they had the baby, and Puck wanted a night out. He's given up hope on spontaneously calling Finn and the two of them going out for beers, so he figured that just maybe if he was sleeping with Quinn's best friend, he might get to see his best friend a little more often.

And people tell him he doesn't think about the future enough.

But see, Rachel hasn't mellowed since the wedding. He won't go into details, but the date? Worst idea ever. He's going to call Finn in the morning and tell him the truth about the whole thing and his honest opinion of this woman.

He doesn't have any clue how anyone could spend more than five minutes with her without wanting to stab themselves in the ear with the closest sharp object.

... ... ...

Rachel toes off her shoes and drops her keys in the carved wood bowl on the table in her foyer. She resists the urge to groan or yell or pick up the phone and tell Quinn never to set her up again.

She has no idea how anyone in the world could think Noah Puckerman is tolerable in any sense of the word. He has zero manners and even less tact. His idea of a nice place for dinner was a sports bar with .25 cent wings. He nursed a beer and called her cosmopolitan a 'weak ass girly drink' and yelled at the television with the crowd more than he spoke with her.

If it weren't for the fact that he's completely gorgeous and has a voice that could melt ice (she doesn't even know what that means, just that it sounds like an apt description), she would have left before their drinks even arrived.

Quinn is her best friend and has been for nearly 10 years. She knows Noah and Quinn's husband, Finn, have been best friends since they were children. She can't deny that the story would have been adorable, had things worked out this evening.

It's safe to say that he has not matured since Quinn and Finn's wedding like Rachel hoped he had. Is it too much to ask that a man that close to 30 not act like a 19 year old boy? She does find it commendable that he owns his own business, but by the sounds of it business isn't exactly booming. What solid business man has a pool installation business in Ohio? He can only work six months of the year. She thinks he doesn't really mind that, but still, there's something to be said for forward motion.

She and Quinn were college roommates, met at 18 in a tiny dorm room with two completely different backgrounds and two completely different career paths. Both of them were incredibly focused on their studies, so being roommates worked out well. When they needed to work, they worked. When they wanted to relax, they watched Hepburn movies and ate low fat popcorn. At the end of their freshman year, Rachel's fathers suggested the girls get a place off campus, and Quinn was all for it. The rest, as they say in all the best clichés, is history. They've been best friends for years, and Rachel was maid of honour in Quinn's wedding. It's only fitting, really, since she's the one who introduced Finn and Quinn in the first place.

See, someone in her business law class insisted he had the perfect man for Rachel. She'd been in a bit of a rut, romantically-speaking, so she agreed, even though she hated blind dates (which just reminds her now that she should have said no to this set up with Noah). Anyway, the night of the date came, and she'd been told of a last-minute test taking place in her most difficult class, so she was wearing sweats, drinking coffee, and completely forgot. Quinn, however, was free, and Rachel noticed the way Quinn looked at this tall handsome man when he showed up at the door. So Rachel, being the good friend that she is, volunteered Quinn to entertain the man for the evening. (And entertain she did.) The two have been together ever since.

She's really, really thrilled for them. They just had their first baby 10 months ago. She's gorgeous, this little girl. Sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Her name is Violet Noelle Hudson, and Rachel would like to roll her eyes at the homage to the man she's very close to despising, but the story really is rather cute.

See, Finn was in Detroit in meetings for the car dealership he owns when Quinn went into labour, and she dialed the first person she knew who had a car. Noah rushed to she and Finn's huge house in the suburbs and picked her up with all the stuff she needed, and drove her to the hospital. Then he stayed with her for four hours of her labour, holding her hand and (allegedly) talked her through her contractions. Rachel isn't entirely sure what he said. No one knows. That, she supposes, will stay between Quinn and Noah forever.

Anyway, when the baby was born, Quinn and Finn decided to honour Noah, and Noelle just stuck as Violet's middle name.

Rachel is only a little jealous.

She is not desperate for a husband or anything silly like that. But when she goes on dates, which isn't often at all, she's always thinking, 'Maybe this time'. And every time it doesn't work out, she's a little more disappointed.

Tonight, however, she's just relieved that she can safely leave that man for some other poor, unsuspecting woman.

... ... ...

The sun hasn't even gone down one evening in May when Puck's phone rings and he gets the news.

He legitimately doesn't believe it. He won't believe it. He gets in his car and drives out to Finn and Quinn's insanely nice neighbourhood and sees their house completely dark, no car in the driveway. Finn's always home on Thursday nights because Quinn watches Grey's Anatomy religiously and he takes care of Vi so she can watch uninterrupted.

He parks his SUV at the curb and gets out, walks around to the passenger side and looks at the house. He slides down the metal until he's kneeling, and he pounds the cement curb with the back of his hand. It probably hurts, but he can't really register the pain.

... ... ...

Rachel is sitting on the sofa in her pajamas with a glass of wine in one hand and some non-fat soy frozen yogurt in the other. She's waiting for the phone to ring so she and Quinn can have their 'date'. Every Thursday night, they get on the phone and talk (sort of...) about Grey's Anatomy as they watch. It started in school, them watching together, and it just stuck as their 'thing'. The only time they didn't watch 'together' was when Quinn was on her honeymoon in Tahiti.

The phone rings, but she isn't at all prepared for what comes next.

She vaguely registers the words being spoken, Quinn's sister, between sobs, saying things like_ 'car accident'_ and _'dead on impact'_ and _'they're gone, Rachel.' _

She's in shock. She knows what shock is and she is most definitely experiencing it. But even in her state of complete and utter disbelief, she manages one question.

"What about Violet?"

The baby is fine, and Rachel doesn't really know what to make of that.

She hangs up the phone, drinks her entire glass of wine in one long gulp, and it falls to the ground and shatters when she really starts to comprehend what has happened.

... ... ...

Puck really, really does not want to be here. Who would? But he won't skip out right after the service, because he owes it to Mrs. H., and to Violet (she's not here, at the cemetery, but he can't stop thinking about that kid), and to Finn, in some twisted, fucked up way.

Everything's too quiet. He can remember being 17 and high and he and Finn talking about their funerals as events that weren't going to happen for years and years and years, and Finn saying that Free Bird would be the most epic and kick ass funeral song ever. Puck may have called him an idiot, but he hasn't forgotten it. There is no Free Bird. There's no music at all, just wind and crying and a minister saying stuff Puck isn't listening to at all.

He's got Mrs. H.'s hand in his, her husband - Finn's step-father - on her other side. He can see, from the corner of his eye, the Fabrays, standing there with Rachel among them, tucked in with them like family. His mom is there, too, hanging around in the back somewhere, no doubt with tears in her eyes. She knew Finn for as long as he did. He forgets that sometimes, like when she told him she was coming to the funeral and he asked her why. There has to be 100 people here. He doesn't know half of them, but he knows it just means a lot of people knew and liked Finn and Quinn or whatever.

But he's kind of pissed off, too, because they _didn't_ know Finn. Not like he did. He feels like he's lost a brother. He has, kind of. He and Finn practically taught one another how to be men, in some fucked up way. These people don't understand that. No one would.

It all just comes down to not wanting to be burying his best friend at all. That's where the anger is coming from.

He hangs back a little bit when the service is over. He doesn't know why. There are just two coffins in the ground, waiting to be covered over. There aren't even headstones there yet. It's fucked up, he just doesn't want to leave right now.

There are just a few people around when he sees Rachel sitting on one of the white folding chairs that were set up. She's in a knee length black dress, sleeveless and modest and stuff, and her knees are pressed together. She's crying. He can see her shoulders shaking and she's taking big breaths and wiping her face.

They might not have worked out, but she just lost her best friend, too, and he knows exactly how she feels.

He starts walking towards her. He has no idea what he'll say, and he thinks this tie might be cutting off the circulation to his head or something, so he tugs at it as he walks. He's right behind her, just reaching out to rest his hand on her back when one of she and Quinn's mutual friends comes over and takes her hand, pulls her away.

He watches her go. She takes one last look over her shoulder at the graves that, in his opinion shouldn't even be there, and keeps walking towards the car that will take her back to the Fabray house for the gathering. He sits down in the chair she vacated, rests his elbows on his knees, and tries to remember how to breathe.

... ... ...

She really wishes people would stop apologizing to her. What the hell good is that going to do? It's not somehow going to bring her best friend back, and it doesn't make the whole thing hurt any less. If anything, the constant reminder just forces her to face all this a little faster than even the situation dictates.

She just wants to pretend a little bit. She doesn't want to have just watched her best friend's casket lowered into the ground. And she's looking around the room, and people are eating finger foods and drinking wine, and it just doesn't seem right. Yes, maybe this is some celebration of life, or whatever people will tell her if she throws the fit she wants to throw, but people have still died.

When she hears someone laughing, she starts crying again.

She heads for the stairs, slips off her heels once she's on the second floor of the house, and decides she's going to check on Violet. She loves that little girl and she's been thinking about her all day. She knows the Fabrays have been taking care of her since the accident - how she was uninjured in that crash, Rachel will never comprehend - and Rachel hasn't seen the baby. They're also keeping her in Quinn's childhood bedroom, but Rachel takes a deep breath and tells herself it'll be fine, that there's no reason she can't step through that door.

It's open a crack, so she pushes it gently open with the hand that isn't holding her shoes. She doesn't think there's a word to describe the amount of surprise she feels when she sees Noah Puckerman standing by the window with Violet perched on his arm and his lips close to her temple. One of the floorboards creaks under her feet and he turns his head, then his whole body. Violet is wearing pajamas - a pair Rachel knows Quinn loved - and has her hand over Noah's as it sits on her stomach. There's something sad and sweet about the whole picture.

"Sorry," she says, cringing when she realizes she's used that stupid word. "I just thought I'd check on her."

He nods and she realizes his tie is loose and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone. His suit jacket is laying on the bed in the room. "I just needed to get away from...everything," he admits.

She looks to the floor, to her bare feet. The polish is chipping, and she should get her manicure redone, but she and Quinn got these ones together, chose the same colour, and she's not ready to change it yet. She drops her shoes on the chair near the door and steps further into the room.

"Do you mind if I...?" she asks, looking at the baby. He shakes his head and hands Violet to her. The girl doesn't make a peep, and Rachel kisses her chubby little cheek, even as she starts tearing up, herself.

"You okay?" Noah asks. He shakes his head at himself and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "I mean, yeah, this all blows, but..."

"I'm...I'm coping the best way I know how," she says quietly. She lays her cheek against the side of Violet's head as she holds the baby. She can't stop thinking about how this little girl will never know her mother and father, and it's breaking her heart.

"Yeah," he mumbles. Rachel can see out the window, people milling around the lawn. She's disgusted with all of them, if she's being honest. She pulls the curtain across so she doesn't have to look at them. "I hate all this."

She nods, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Me too."

He sits at the edge of the bed, and she can feel his eyes on her, but she doesn't care. This is her escape, and if it happens to, for some reason, include him, then so be it. He chuckles once, and she turns and looks at him.

"I think this is the best we've gotten along. Like, ever," he says.

She notices how sad his eyes are, how dull. She wipes her cheek and smiles the first smile she's worn since she got that phone call. "They're meddlers," she whispers. He laughs again. She finds she doesn't mind when he does it, because if there's anyone here feeling exactly what she's feeling, it's him. It's quiet for a moment, and his head is tipped back when she speaks again. "She was the first real friend I ever had."

He nods, which looks a little ridiculous, since his head is still tipped back. He's studying the ceiling, and she's almost tempted to look up to see if there's anything there.

"He was the only real friend I ever had," he admits. He's never said it out loud. He's thought it a million times, but never said it. It's always been true.

"It's not fair," she says, crying even harder now.

She wipes angrily at her cheek with her free hand, and walks towards him. She passes the baby back to him, then brushes her cheeks and crosses her arms, turns away from him. She doesn't expect him to do anything. When she feels his hand between her shoulder blades, she lets out a sob, then covers her mouth. She can't explain why she turns and presses her forehead against his shoulder, nor can she explain the comfort she feels when he puts his free arm around her.

But they both laugh a little bit when Violet's tiny hand gets all tangled in Rachel's hair.

... ... ...

He's drunk and horny and he cried for the first time earlier (fuck it; he just lost his best friend and it really, really hit him when he was watching the game and pulled out his phone to call Finn and talk about that double play he'd just seen), and he remembers where Rachel lives, and it's not far from the bar he's been at all night.

He buzzes her apartment from outside sometime after last call, and he doesn't get what she's so pissed about when she yells at him through the intercom thing. But then the door makes a weird noise, so he pulls on the handle and it flies open. He heads for the elevator, repeating her apartment number over and over again so he doesn't forget it.

He knocks on the door. Apparently it's too loud, because she's telling him to _'shhh' _as soon as she pulls the door open. She tugs the front of his shirt and pulls him inside, and then she's asking him what the hell he's doing here and stuff.

And she's wearing just a satin nightgown or something, and her hair is all sexy and falling over one shoulder, so he braces one hand on the counter next to her, and hey, when did they get to the kitchen? Whatever. He leans in really close and doesn't quite register that she's got her hand on his chest so she can push him away, not keep him closer.

"C'mon," he says. Her eyes are all wide as she looks at him. "Let's have a little fun."

She's arching her back, which sucks because he can't quite ever reach her lips.

"I don't think so," she says firmly. He doesn't move, and he might be swaying on his feet a little bit, but he wants to make it very clear that he's still good to go if she wants to go, so he presses his hips against hers a bit. She pushes hard and slips away from him. "Noah! God! You can't just...You can't come here at 2:30 in the morning and expect me to...We barely know each other! And we _clearly_ don't like one another. You're..."

"You're sexy," he tells her. He keeps his distance, because even in this state, he knows she'd have no problem kicking him in the balls if the mood struck her. Besides, no matter how bad he wants it, no means no and he's not a complete douchebag. "I need...I need to..."

She gives him a glass of water (didn't even see her pour that) and makes sure it's securely in his hand. "You need to drink this and get some sleep," she insists.

"My truck's at...'S'down the street."

"Oh, no. You are _not_ driving anywhere," she says, shaking her head. "What are you, 16? Don't you know how stupid that is?" He locks eyes with her as he takes a long drink of water. "What's your address? I'm going to call you a cab."

"No. No. I hate cabs. They take the long way and screw you," he says. He puts the empty glass on the counter. (Guess he was thirsty.) "I came here so I could screw _you_."

"You're disgusting," she spits at him. "Do you have any idea how..." She closes her eyes, sighs, and shakes her head again. "You can sleep on the couch."

"Couch?" he asks, and it comes out high pitched and weird. "C'mon, baby. Don't do that to me."

"Don't call me that, and you're lucky I'm not throwing you out on your behind."

He smirks and kicks off his shoes, flinging them and not caring where they land. "You can't even say ass."

"I can, I just prefer not to," she says, picking up his shoes. Speaking of asses, he gets a really, really great view of hers when she bends over. Twice. She catches him looking and lets out a frustrated noise, uses the sole of his sneaker to hit him on the arm. Twice. "For instance, _you_, Noah, are a gigantic ass!"

He smiles at her and tries to grab her arm when she walks past him, but she's too fast and little or something. "So where's'is couch?" he asks, running a hand over his head. If he's not getting laid, then he probably really needs to get some sleep.

She's already got a pillow and blanket in her arms when he steps into her living room. This apartment is ridiculous. He supposes when you help people get divorced all day long, you probably earn a decent living. He unzips his jeans, laughs when she turns around quickly.

"You should have everything you need," she says. "There's mouthwash, Advil and Tylenol in the bathroom. And please, please make it there if you're going to be sick."

After he's got his shirt off, he takes advantage of the fact that she's got her back to him, puts his hands on her hips and pulls her back towards him. "Thanks."

"Well, you didn't exactly give me much of a choice," she reminds him. She pulls away from him and heads for her bedroom door. "If you're gone in the morning before I wake up, I won't be too disappointed."

The door shuts and he hears a lock click into place. He looks over at her expensive leather sofa, white pillow and blanket sitting at one end, and tries to figure out where he went wrong.

... ... ...

When Rachel wakes up on Saturday morning, she actually feels rested. She smiles, takes a deep breath and stretches in bed. She's got lightweight sheets on the bed and she's wearing her favourite nightgown, and her room is spotless, since she took the day before off and reorganized her bedroom furniture. It was just time for a change. It has very little to do with the fact that when Finn helped her assemble her bedroom set, he told her the bed would look much better along the west wall than it would along the north one. She never believed him until yesterday, when she moved it to the west wall. Purely coincidental.

Anyway, it's a beautiful day. The sun is out, and it's nearing 9:00, and she's got a few mindless errands to do today, but nothing more.

Then she remembers the late night visitor she had and the day loses some of its luster.

What the hell is Noah's problem, showing up unannounced and practically pouncing on her? He'd smelled of cigarettes and whiskey, and she's trying to recall where she put that leather-safe cleaner for her sofa so she can start erasing all trace of him from her apartment.

She understands, to some degree, she does. She knows how hard it has to be for him, losing his best friend. There are days she finds it hard to get out of bed. She's called Quinn's number twice before remembering no one was going to answer. She didn't watch Grey's Anatomy last week, because she honestly doesn't think she cares about the actual show whatsoever, just the tradition that came with it.

She gets out of bed, makes it neatly, then heads to the bathroom. She always feels better after a shower with her expensive eucalyptus shampoo and honey-extract body wash. Afterward, she wraps her oversized white towel around her body and swipes on some mascara and lipgloss before drying her hair a bit, just enough to let it dry in sections and curl at the ends. She pulls on jeans and a plain black tank top from the Gap and thanks the powers that be that her apartment sounds completely quiet. Her 'guest' must be gone.

Stepping out of her bedroom, she stops in her tracks when she gets to the living room and sees the man standing with his back to her, looking out the window with just a pair of navy blue boxers on. He's got one hand on his hip and the other on the window frame as he looks down from her 11th floor apartment.

"Oh," she says, and he turns his head to look at her over his shoulder. "You're still here."

"Just woke up," he says, voice thick with sleep.

She sees that at least the blanket is folded and neatly stacked with the pillow on the sofa. His clothes are draped over her arm chair, and she debates walking over and handing them to him, but she doesn't think he'd even get the hint then.

She can't find it in her to be rude, though he certainly was last night.

"Did you sleep alright?" she asks, walking into the kitchen. She reaches for her expensive coffee maker and starts filling it with water.

"Yeah, fine," he says. He pulls on his jeans, but doesn't zip them, then walks over and sits down on one of the stools at the counter. It's a shame he's such a jackass, because he really is quite attractive. Almost excessively so. "Hey, so I was a dick."

She actually laughs. She can tell he thinks that is an apology. She looks at him warily. "Are you speaking in general terms, or about this incident specifically?" she asks. She's probably not meant to see him rolling his eyes. He almost looks embarrassed. Or maybe just sad. "I can't say I appreciated the interruption of my sleep."

He purses his lips. "Sorry. I was...I don't even know." She looks over at him and shrugs her shoulder slowly. She doesn't forgive him, but she's not angry, and she thinks that's about as good as it's going to get. "So how 'bout some breakfast? I'm fuckin' starved."

She turns to him, then, hands on her hips and an incredulous look on her face. "You expect me to make you breakfast after the stunt you've pulled?"

"Hey," he smirks, "if you'd let me into your bedroom, _I _probably woulda made _you_ breakfast. 'S'all part of the Puckerman service guarantee."

She barks out a laugh and grabs a box of organic cereal from her neatly organized cupboard, then reaches for two bowls. "I certainly hope you don't charge for that, or I may have to alert the authorities."

He shakes his head and furrows his brow. "You would, too, wouldn't you?"

"I have a commitment to the..."

"Whatever," he mumbles. "I was only offered money once, thanks anyway." She stops pouring cereal and looks at him with her mouth agape. "Well, I didn't _accept_. Jesus. I may like sex, and I'm fucking killer in bed, but money doesn't need to change hands. What kinda guy do you think I am?"

She keeps her mouth closed, not only because she doesn't think he wants to hear her opinion on that, but because she realizes she really doesn't know all that much about him anyway.

"Here," she says, passing a bowl of cereal to him. He picks up the spoon and winks as he salutes her with it. That's kind of like a thank you, but different, she supposes. "How do you take your coffee?"

"Black," he mumbles with his mouth full. "This tastes like shit. You eat this crap? 'S'no wonder you're so fuckin' skinny."

She sets the mug in front of him with a little more force than necessary, the sound of the ceramic on her granite countertop echoing through the apartment. He has the audacity to smirk, and she's very close to throwing his shirt at his head and telling him to just get out already. She's had her fill of him, but she most definitely won't say the words, because she knows for a fact that he'd turn the innocent phrase into a sexual innuendo, and she just really doesn't want to give him the opportunity.

She's about to ask him how far his vehicle is and would he like to go get it now, please, when her phone rings. She doesn't bother to excuse herself before walking over to answer it. She figures since he has no manners to speak of, he won't comment on her behaviour.

He's watching her while she talks, and she can tell. When she turns around, he winks at her over the rim of his coffee cup. She can't decide whether to be flattered or annoyed at these little gestures of his. On one hand, there's something very close to flattering about the whole thing. On the other, he's an insufferable pig and she wants nothing to do with him.

She doesn't necessarily understand why the Fabray's are asking her to go to their house, but it sounds important and she says she'll be there shortly. She walks into her solarium/office and opens her laptop to check the weekend bus schedule, and she hears Noah's phone ring.

She isn't eavesdropping, it's just that she can hear what he's saying.

He's been asked to the Fabray's, too.

"What do they want with you?" she asks with her arms crossed as she walks back into the kitchen.

"I dunno," he says, as though she's crazy to ask. "Just told me to go to their place."

He gets up and walks to the living room, grabbing his shirt, and she snatches it from his hands. "I don't think so," she says seriously. "You are most certainly not walking into that home...like this."

He glares at her. "Well, what do you suggest, Princess?"

"A _shower_, for one," she says. "I'll see if I can find a clean shirt for you to wear."

He grins, takes a step towards her and reaches out, smoothing his hand over her waist before settling it on her hip. His eyes are clearly focused on her body. "Don't think you have anything in my size, babe."

She jerks herself away from him and drops his shirt into his hand. "I may have something of Paul's around here somewhere."

"Paul?" he asks, brow furrowed. Then he starts laughing. "That douche you brought to the wedding?"

"My ex-boyfriend," she corrects him.

"Dude was built like a pipe cleaner."

She looks him up and down. "I think your opinion of yourself is slightly skewed."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he asks, looking down at himself. He flexes the muscles of one arm. "I work hard for this body." She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. He grabs her hand and puts it on his stomach before she can pull it away. "Tell me that's not impressive."

He pushes her hand down over his abs, and she can see (literally) where this is going, so she tugs her hand away before he manages to get it to the waistband of his boxers.

"Nice try," she laughs. "Go shower. I'll find something."

He's smirking as he walks past her toward the bathroom near the front door to her apartment. She knows he thinks he's clever.

Well, at least that makes one person.

... ... ...

Convincing her to just get in his damn car was like pulling teeth. This chick really, really hates him. It's fucked. Yeah, he was a total jerk last night, and that date they went on was terrible, and they never really got off to a great start when they first met however many years ago, but damn. They're going to the same place, and she started walking in the opposite direction as soon as they left her apartment building. She said she was heading for the bus stop, and he grabbed her arm, pulling her down the street with him. He asked why the hell she'd take the bus instead of going with him, and she told him it was so that she wouldn't have to go with him. That shit was cold.

So anyway, she's sitting in the passenger seat of his SUV, looking out the window and not saying anything.

He's pulling at the collar of the douchey shirt she gave him to wear. Seriously. Who the fuck is this Lacoste guy and where does he get off charging a hundred bucks for a fucking golf shirt? And this thing is bright blue. Like, _bright blue_. Rachel smiled when he put it on, though. Whatever. Obviously she likes her men to look as fucking stupid as possible. Why else would she have dated that Paul guy in the first place?

"Just stop fussing with it!" she snaps, looking at him for the first time since he pushed her in the direction of the open car door. That was 15 minutes ago.

"It's tight," he insists. "I told you it was too small." She rolls her eyes and lets out a huff. "It _is_."

"Considering you're hungover and, frankly, in dire need of a haircut, you almost look presentable," she says.

Goddamn. Even her compliments are like a slap to the face.

She's sitting next to him in a knee-length black skirt with satin and whatever around the pockets, a white button down shirt with a red sweater overtop. He liked the jeans and tank top better, but this is alright, too.

"What do you think they want?" he asks after another couple minutes.

"I don't know," she says quietly. "I'm nervous." He glances over at her with a smirk on his face. "What?"

"You're capable of feeling nerves? Who'd'a thought?"

She turns towards him, knees pressed together as she glares. "I don't appreciate you passing judgment on me. You don't know anything about me. Perhaps you would, had you actually paid attention to me on that sorry excuse for a date you took me on."

He flicks his wrist in the air between them and she crosses her arms, flops back against the seat. He turns up the radio as they pull into the Fabray's neighbourhood.

Okay, so maybe they don't get along, but goddamn. Could she at least try not to be a complete and total raging bitch to him all the fucking time?

"It's the next driveway," she says.

"I know where they live," he replies, annoyed. He pulls into the driveway and cuts the engine. "You're not the only one who knows things."

"I didn't say..."

He cuts her off by getting out and slamming the door closed behind him.

He at least waits until she's standing on the porch next to him before ringing the bell, so she supposes she can be thankful for that. But she hates this tension.

"Noah, I didn't..."

"Shh. Footsteps," he says. He honestly gets a kick out of cutting her off, 'cause she gets all pissy and lets out these little breaths that prove she's annoyed.

The door swings open, and Quinn's mom practically pushes Puck out of the way so she can get to Rachel, pulling her into a hug. She smoothes her hands over Rachel's cheeks as the two exchange hellos, and he's just standing there until they're invited inside.

He doesn't expect to see Finn's mom and step-dad there, too. He walks over and gives Mrs. H. a hug, then shakes Burt's hand, and sits down where Mr. Fabray tells him to. (Not many people can scare Puck, but this dude is slightly terrifying.) Rachel sits on the sofa next to him.

Rachel is given an official-looking folder, which she opens and looks through while Mr. Fabray and Mrs. H. talk about stuff. Puck's a little confused. He looks down at the papers in Rachel's lap, but it's all legal garbage and that makes even less sense to him.

"So, you two were named Godparents," Mrs. H. says. Puck remembers that part, Finn and Quinn having him for dinner and asking him if he'd want the job.

He said yes, thinking it wasn't really a job at all.

"Right," he says, brow still furrowed.

"Well, in their last will and testament, they named you two as Violet's legal guardians," Mr. Fabray says, and if Puck is reading his voice correctly, he doesn't sound at all impressed with this. Mrs. H. just smiles at Puck when he looks at her.

"I'm sorry," Rachel says, looking up from the documents in her hands. "Together?"

"Whoa. What?" Puck asks.

Rachel starts shaking her head and leafing through the papers. That cannot be right. Who in the world would trust the man next to her with raising a child? You'd have to be crazy! But there it is in black and white, with Quinn and Finn's signatures at the bottom of the page, a document naming both Rachel and Noah as Violet's guardians in the event of Finn and Quinn's deaths before the girl turned 18.

"No one's more surprised than I am," Mr. Fabray says. "But it is what it is."

"Rachel, you know we trust you with...Well, with anything," Mrs. Fabray insists.

Puck is very aware he's not being mentioned here.

So is Rachel.

"I can't...I don't know what to say," Rachel says quietly, shaking her head. "I mean, I understand what the responsibility of a Godparent is, but this is...You never expect..."

"I know, sweetie," Mrs. Fabray says, walking over and taking Rachel by the hand. Rachel stands and the Fabray's pull her through the door and into the kitchen.

Puck sits back on the couch and runs a hand over his face. Mrs. H. comes and sits next to him, places her and on his shoulder and smiles sadly.

"I know this is a lot to process," she says, laughing when he shoots her a look. "But they chose you for a reason, Noah."

"But I'm...I mean, what do I know about...This is fucked." He might be struck down for cursing with all these pictures of Jesus on the wall, but that's not really his concern right now. "Rachel, yeah. She's the obvious choice. She has her shit together and she's...you know. Look at her. She's a tightass and whatever. But me?" He shakes his head and Burt laughs. It somehow puts him at ease. "Why the hell would he pick me?"

"Honey, Finn thought of you as a brother. He trusted you," Mrs. H. says, taking his hand between both of hers. "He wouldn't want anyone else raising his daughter." Puck opens his mouth to say he doesn't know anything about raising kids, but she cuts him off. "You can do this. You'll learn as you go."

"But Quinn's sister...She's married."

"And she has three children under the age of four," Mrs. H. laughs. "Noah, you don't give yourself enough credit."

"No offense, Mrs. H., but you're giving me too much right now. I can't do this. And I have to do it with Rachel? She fuckin' hates me."

"Rachel is a sweet girl," she insists. "Between the two of you, you'll be fine."

"And you can call us if you have to," Burt adds. "No one expects you to do this all on your own."

Puck takes a deep breath. Not that this is a Grade A pep talk or anything, but it's almost working. He doesn't know anything about babies. At all. Any time Violet cried, he passed her back to Finn or Quinn. Diapers? Totally not his deal. He dug her when she was all mellow and quiet, or when she was giggling and crawling around on the floor and stuff. And he got her a teddy bear when she was born, and he thinks it's awesome that it's her favourite toy, but all that's a far cry from actually being responsible for her upbringing.

Rachel and the Fabrays walk back into the room, and Rachel has tears on her face. She looks at him with about as much terror as he's feeling, then sits down next to him again.

"They want us to live in their house. In Finn and Quinn's house," she tells him.

His eyes go wide.

That was her reaction, too.

"What?" he asks a little too loudly.

Mrs. H. squeezes his hand and he looks at her again. "Violet has been through so much. Yes, she's young, but she...Too much change would be difficult," she explains. "It makes sense. The house was theirs, bought and paid for, and they've left it to Violet. Technically, since you're her guardians, it's yours."

"This is insane," Rachel whispers, wiping her face again.

She cannot believe she's being asked to raise her dead best friend's infant daughter. Furthermore, she's expected to do it with Quinn's husband's immature, ridiculous best friend, and now she's being told she, in a technical, legal sense, owns Quinn and Finn's four bedroom home.

This cannot be her life.

... ... ...

"You okay?" he asks her as they drive back to her place so she can start packing some things. They've agreed to start caring for Violet tomorrow. To be honest, that seems way too fucking soon, but he can't do anything about it, really.

It's not like there's a _right_ time for your best friend to die and leave you his kid.

"I'm fine," Rachel says quietly, staring out the window and brushing a tear from her cheek again.

"You know, this is all happening to me, too," he says, because honestly, she's making this all about her, like she's the only one getting thrown headfirst into this, and it doesn't really seem all that fair.

Yeah, what he just said may have made him sound like a pussy who actually talks and/or cares about feelings, but whatever. He's emotional right now, okay? God.

She realizes he's right. Until now, she's been thinking of this solely in terms of herself. She didn't really put too much stock into him being part of this, because she couldn't necessarily see him as part of his. Something clicked when he said that, however, pointed out that his life is changing just as much as hers is. It's like she now knows he wants to be a part of this whole situation, that he's not going to pass off his responsibilities. She, perhaps, should have given him a little more credit.

"I'm sorry," she says after another minute or two. "I don't mean to be selfish, I'm just...I'm sorry."

"'S'okay," he says.

His hand lands on her thigh, and he's not even trying to make a move. He's just trying to...He doesn't know. He does know that she doesn't push it away or anything. She doesn't try to hold it or have a 'moment' or whatever, but she doesn't tell him to not touch her ever, either.

Like it or not, they're in all this together.


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel takes a few more days off work. Her boss doesn't like it, and she knows she's completely destroying any chance of making partner within the next three years, but ever since yesterday afternoon, her priorities have been shifting drastically.

Violet is number one with a bullet.

So as she was packing some of her things in a couple suitcases last night, she was also on the phone with a realtor friend and getting the ball rolling on selling her condo. She stands to make a really nice profit, since she can now sell it furnished. There are a few pieces of furniture she'll put in storage, sentimental pieces and artwork and things like that, but the rest of it can stay. She called her fathers and told them the news, and they offered support and words of advice and told her how proud they are that she's stepping up and doing this. They also told her that if she keeps an open mind and demonstrates high levels of tolerance, she should be able to do this with Noah with no problem. She's having a little harder time believing that, but she's trying. She wants to give him the benefit of the doubt.

After all, he was great with Violet when she saw him the day of the funeral. Granted, the girl was happy and wasn't making a sound, but still. At least he knows how to properly hold a child, and it's clear he cares about the little girl.

Anyway, the Fabrays have left, and Violet is taking her afternoon nap, and Rachel is busy hanging clothes in the closet of the room she's chosen as hers in this house. When she hears the front door open and close, she walks out into the hall and looks down over the banister that overlooks the foyer, and sees Noah kick off his shoes and set them in the hall closet. That's a good sign.

When he looks around and runs a hand over his head, he catches sight of her and she lifts one hand off the wood railing and waves at him. He juts his chin in her direction and starts up the stairs.

"I took the bigger spare. I hope that's okay," she says once he's standing in front of her.

"Yeah, fine," he mumbles. He looks towards the closed door at the end of the hall, the master bedroom.

"I couldn't," she says, following his gaze. "It's just..."

"Weird?" he supplies, and she nods. "Sleeping in the same bed they had sex in. Totally fucked."

Her jaw drops, and she doesn't know why she feels like she might start laughing. He smirks at her and heads for the room across the hall from 'hers'. He tosses his duffel onto the bed carelessly and sticks his hands in his pockets, waking across the hall and leaning against her door frame.

"So where's Vi?" he asks.

"Violet is sleeping," she answers, unzipping a garment bag and hanging another suit in the closet. He walks in and looks at the clothes she's got hanging. "What?"

"Got enough black suits? Jesus."

"I'm required to look professional for my job," she replies easily, running her hand over the front of her favourite suit before hanging it next to the others.

"Why not wear the same one every day? How much d'you spend on this crap in a year?" he asks. He sits down on the bed, picks up a high heeled shoe and spins it on his finger by the strap. She walks over and grabs it from his hand.

"That's none of your business," she insists. "But if you must know, I'm awarded a clothing allowance by my firm."

He scoffs and shakes his head. "So they pay you to break up marriages _and_ dress like a tightass. Sweet gig, babe."

She puts her hands on her hips and shifts her weight. "What exactly is your problem with my profession? This isn't the first time you've made disparaging remarks, and I don't exactly appreciate it."

He shrugs one shoulder and takes the liberty of snooping through the bag she's got on the bed. It's full of makeup and girly beauty products and shit.

Weird, since the best he's ever seen her look, she had barely any makeup on and was wearing a pair of faded jeans with a worn out spot near the pocket he was itching to stick his finger through.

She grabs the bag off the bed and sets it on the dresser so he can't look through it.

"Nothing," he answers. "Just you lawyer types. You're all so serious all the time. First time Vi pukes on one of your fancy suits, you'll probably cry." She sighs and rolls her eyes. "Not to mention, maybe if there weren't so many fuckin' divorce lawyers in the world, people'd try harder to stay married."

"You honestly believe that?" she laughs. He doesn't like the way she always makes it seem like she knows a hell of a lot more than he does. "Let me guess. You're a child of divorce?"

He narrows his eyes at her and stands from his place. "Don't get all high and mighty and judge my family," he says seriously.

"So you can judge my career, but I can't even make a simple assumption about your upbringing?" They stare at one another, her looking amused and like she's won some kind of prize, and him pissed off and annoyed by her general existence. Violet starts to whimper in the nursery and he walks to the door. "Saved by the bell," Rachel mutters.

He clenches his teeth to keep from cussing her out like he really, really wants to.

... ... ...

Three days in, he still hasn't had to change a diaper, but he's, like, the king of getting Vi to eat without spitting out every second bite, and he can tell Rachel's impressed with that.

He knows diaper changing is inevitable, especially since Rachel is currently sipping coffee and running around with her feet in pantyhose so she slides a little on the ceramic tile in the kitchen. He's wearing jeans and a tee shirt and she's wearing one of those fucking suits (which one? who knows or cares or could tell the difference anyway?) He's got Vi in her high chair and she's currently being fed some yogurt and plain Cheerios, smiling and babbling at him (kid's cute, he has to admit). Rachel's going on and on about what time she'll be home and that she'll bring something home to make dinner, and she walks over with her travel mug in one hand and briefcase in the other and kisses Vi's forehead before walking out of the kitchen.

On one hand, he's kind of glad to be rid of her.

On the other hand, he's starting to realize just how much she's been doing the last few days.

Whatever. He can do dishes while Vi chills in her high chair, right?

No. What the hell's with kids never wanting to stay in that chair? As soon as her food is gone, she's screaming to get up. Okay. He can work with that. He picks her up and takes her to the living room and they play with some toys for a while, and he figures he'll just put her in this little playpen here so he can tidy them up. She sits there and screams for five minutes until he pics her up again, then she's happy as a clam. The room still looks like a tornado hit it, but he'll deal with that later.

Then there's a seriously rank smell coming from this little tiny person, and he steels himself for diaper changing as he carries her upstairs to the nursery and lays her on the change table.

Let's just say she's lucky she's cute, because that was _nasty_.

When he finally gets her down for her nap after lunch, he's so freaking exhausted that he heads into his room and plans to lay down just for a few minutes.

He wakes up an hour and a half later when he hears her 'talking' in her crib. Wiping his eyes, he heads in, smiles when he sees her laying there with this cute as hell little look on her face. He changes her again, gives her a bottle, and the two of them play for a while.

So when Rachel walks in the door close to 6:00, the house is a disaster and he's ready for another nap, and if she looks unimpressed, clearly she doesn't understand how difficult it is to take care of an infant alone.

It sounds lame, but he's got a whole new respect for single moms. How do they do this shit?

He takes the grocery bags from her, hands her the baby, and tells her it's her turn to deal with the monster. She laughs when Violet squeals happily, and he finds himself smiling as he walks away and into the kitchen.

They've kind of been coexisting to this point. She took charge the first couple days, but he's done whatever he could. Well, whatever she'd let him. He checked out Quinn's car and made sure everything was in good working order so Rachel could use it to get to work instead of having to take the bus over an hour each way. He also took calls from Finn's employees at the dealership and answered their inane questions about the business. Does he know? No. Burt's been helping with that, too, but he's got his own shop to run. Puck figures that since his own business is...Well, it's not like it's a huge corporation. He makes enough to get by and bank some money when all is said and done. He's got time to help with Finn's business.

Anyway, they've been making it work. After today, he's starting to think they might actually be able to do this, even if it does kind of turn him into Mr. Mom.

He's really surprised, but definitely appreciates, that Rachel doesn't even bitch and complain about the state of the house.

They still don't talk much. They've learned talking, with them, turns into arguing, and he really doesn't have the energy for that shit right now.

As soon as Vi's down for the night, Rachel goes to her bedroom and shuts the door, and he opens a beer and watches television until midnight before heading up to bed. His head hits the pillow and he realizes he gets to do it all again tomorrow.

... ... ...

It's Saturday, and Rachel is in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt from the university she and Quinn attended. Her hair is in a ponytail and she's covered up to her wrists in baby food. And she's happier than she's been all week.

She's decided that there's no need to get Noah out of bed when she can clearly handle things on her own for a while.

She has to admit she's impressed. He's done incredibly well this week without her. Her initial apprehension over leaving him alone with Violet disappeared after the first couple days. Well, mostly. She still had to explain to him why it was just not okay to feed chicken wings to a ten month old, and she lightly critiqued his diapering methods (then showed him, as sweetly and non-judgmentally as she could, the proper way to do it). And yes, the first day she came home and the house looked like a hurricane had come through it, but it's gotten marginally better over the week.

The whole thing has been far better than she thought it would be.

She's playing with Violet on the floor in the living room, using a shape sorter and being overly animated any time the baby puts the right shape in the right spot, and Noah comes down the stairs, pulling a tee shirt over his head and tucking his phone and wallet into his pockets.

"Good morning," she says. She's not going to say anything about it being close to 10:00. She understands this week couldn't have been easy on him.

"Hey," he says. She watches as he walks into the foyer and she hears the closet door open and close.

"Where are you going?" she asks, pulling Violet to sit on her lap.

"Work," he answers easily. "Got a job to finish."

"Oh."

Violet smiles and coos at him and he grins and walks over, bends down and picks the baby up under her arms. He tosses her in the air a little too high for Rachel's liking, and she stands up and pulls her shirt down where it's ridden up. He hands Violet to her after a moment.

"Gonna miss me?" he asks.

She notices he drops his voice in timbre every time he says something like that.

"No, I...I just..." He seems far too pleased with himself for making her stutter. "I thought it would be good for Violet to spend some time with the two of us together."

"Yeah, you're probably right, but I gotta finish this job, or I don't get paid for this job."

"I understand that, but..."

"Rachel," he says exhaustedly, "I can't help it, okay? I'm...I'm thinking of shutting down the business all together, but I gotta..."

"What?" she asks, completely surprised. "Shutting down your business? I..."

"I know. We'll talk later, okay? I really have to go."

"We need to talk about this," she says seriously, following him to the door.

"I know! I _just_ said that." He grabs the door knob and she's still standing there wondering how he can just say these things, then leave. "I won't be late. Just...chill. God."

The door slams behind him and Violet starts pulling her hair, and she should not be as close to tears as she is.

It's just that she already feels distanced from this whole situation, since she's been working all week and he's clearly already made a bond with Violet. The girl lights up when she sees him, and Rachel is feeling left out. That has nothing to do with anything, but while she's emotional, she figures she'll think about that right now.

Not only that, but there's the issue of money. Violet has a trust fund that both sets of grandparents pay into, and she 'owns' the house, and she's practically set for college and all that. But for right now, there still needs to be food on the table and utilities need to be paid, and all of that will fall to Rachel if Noah closes his business. Obviously, she'd make more than him regardless, but it would be nice not to have to bear the burden alone. She won't allow him to be some kind of kept man, either. There's no way she's going to take care of him when he barely even respects her, if his actions are speaking for him.

When he doesn't come home that night, she thinks all that is confirmed.

... ... ...

He tries to enter the house as quietly as he can. Not that he has to answer to the uptight woman who sleeps across the hall from him, he's just hungover and wearing yesterday's clothes, and he really would like to just crawl into his own bed and sleep for a couple hours before he inevitably gets worked over.

She walks to the top of the stairs and he sees her as he starts up them and towards his room. Whatever. She's not his wife. He doesn't owe her any explanation.

"Noah," she says quietly. He ignores her. Fuck it. He doesn't want to get into it with her right now. "Where were you."

"Out."

"And there were no phones?" she asks tartly, crossing her arms.

"Relax!" he says, standing right in front of her. She's blocking the door to his room, and he doesn't really appreciate that. "Fuck."

"You smell like...You smell disgusting."

He knows what he smells like. Sex and alcohol.

"So don't smell me. You wanna move?" he asks, running a hand over his head. "Seriously. Not in the mood."

She laughs humourlessly and shakes her head. "You know, you might not want to believe that this changes things, but I won't have you coming in at all hours after doing god knows what with god knows whom. It's not right."

"It's not your call," he tells her. Fuck, he's sick of her attitude. She's been giving it to him since that day at her apartment. Maybe he deserved it then, but he doesn't deserve it now. "I don't need you barking orders like a fucking drill sergeant, okay?"

"This isn't about you. Or me, it's about..."

"It's about the fact that it's six in the fucking morning, and you're on my ass about shit that doesn't concern you!" he says a little too loudly.

They both turn their heads towards the nursery when they hear Violet start to cry. Rachel drops her arms to her sides and glares at him. "Great. You've woken her up. Thank you for that."

"I'll get her," he says. She holds out a hand to stop him. He stares at her like she's crazy. She fucking _is_ if you ask him.

"You're not going anywhere near her like this," she says seriously. "Just...Just go do whatever it is you normally do after a night of sex and drinking. I'll take care of it."

She pushes open the door to his room with a little more force than necessary, then turns on her heel and heads for the nursery.

"You always play the martyr, or is this a special performance just for me?" he asks bitterly.

She turns around and looks at him, and he swears he's never seen a woman so pissed off in his entire life.

... ... ...

He showers quickly and tries to sleep a bit. He didn't get much the night before. And maybe it wasn't the greatest idea to stay out all night, but you know what? This is all completely fucked and a lot to adjust to, so forgive him if he wants just a little bit of his old life right now. He's not a dad. He's not a husband. There's nothing wrong with him wanting to have sex with a hot woman just for the sake of working out some stress.

He doesn't feel guilty about not calling Rachel. It's none of her business what he does or who he does it with, and he's pissed at her for suggesting otherwise. He kept that shit out of the house and away from Violet, so what's the issue? It's not like he was nailing the nanny while the baby was sleeping or something. They don't even have a nanny.

It's nearly 8:30 when he finally stops staring at the ceiling and decides he should go talk to her or whatever. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't want to apologize for something he doesn't think he did wrong. He also doesn't want this whole situation to be fucked up and tense.

She must have heard him coming down the stairs, because there's a steaming cup of coffee sitting there on the counter while she feeds Vi at the table, and he thinks he loves this woman he hated to hours ago.

Not really, of course, it's just nice of her to give him coffee.

It's completely quiet, except the talking she's doing with the baby, and okay, he can admit it's pretty cute, the way Violet seems to be reacting really well to Rachel. He's been totally relieved, as fucked up as it is, that Vi doesn't seem to have noticed Finn and Quinn are gone.

He feels like a bastard every time the thought crosses his mind.

Five minutes must pass before he decides he has to say something.

"Look, I'm not gonna stand here and apologize for doing what I wanna do. I didn't bring some random person to this house, and I won't. I wouldn't do that. I just...I need to blow off steam, and that's how I do it. And I'm stressing the hell out with everything, and my life has been completely fuc...effed since...since everything went down. I can't just stay here in this house all the time. I'll go insane."

"I understand," she says, still not looking at him.

"Do you? 'Cause you're acting like a jealous wife or something, and that's just not cool." She rolls her eyes and tilts her head in his direction. "This is all new to me. I'm a bachelor. I do shit on my own terms."

He hopes she doesn't bitch at him for swearing, because he's making a serious effort not to swear in front of the baby and that was the first time he's slipped up.

"Noah, it's okay," she says, standing and wiping her hands on her jeans. "I overreacted. As stressed as you are, so am I, and I don't need to worry about you on top of everything else."

He furrows his brow as he looks at her. "Wait, you were worried about me?" he asks.

She wonders how he doesn't just comprehend these things right away. Clearly, he doesn't know women as well as he claims to. Well, not the emotional part.

"Of course I was," she says, looking down. "I can't do this alone, Noah, just like you can't. We're stuck with one another. Forever."

He feels like he might need to sit down.

Forever is a _big_ fucking word.

"Not makin' me feel better, Rachel," he manages. He sets his mug on the table so he doesn't drop it. She laughs a little bit and wipes Violet's face before pulling the baby into her arms. "This is a lot."

"I know," she says sympathetically as she bounces the baby on her hip.

He actually likes her like this, relaxed, mellow, not in lawyer-mode. And she's good with Vi, he has to admit. Still, even when he tries, he can't manage to smile.

"Gimme," he mumbles, reaching out for the baby. Rachel gives him this little smile and hands Violet over.

"Lucky for you, I have a plan," she says, far too happily. She runs around the island in the kitchen and grabs a calendar he didn't see earlier, a red pen, and a blue one. "If we want this to work at all, we need a schedule. We both know I work during the week, and that means you're here alone with the baby a lot more than I am. It's only fair that you get a break from being primary caregiver. Whether you want to work during the week or not, we could find a babysitter for a few hours a week. I happen to know who...who was used...before," she says.

He notices she can't say Finn and Quinn's names. He doesn't know what to make of that.

And she talks really fucking fast, and Vi is being super adorable right now and trying to smack him in the nose, so he's not really listening.

"...And are you really going to close your business?" she asks.

He shrugs his shoulder, laughs when Vi clocks him (as hard as a 10 month old can) and glances at Rachel. "Been thinking about it."

She takes a deep breath. "Well, I'm certainly not going to tell you what to do, but I don't want us to have to be concerned about money."

He laughs a little, hoists Violet over his shoulder, which he can tell makes Rachel freak out a little, and stands. "It's not like I'm not going to work at all," he says. "Not gonna make you my sugar mama unless you want to be." He walks past her, then stops and raises his brow. "I mean, we could trade services, or..."

"Stop it," she laughs, swatting him with the calendar. She isn't in love with the way he's holding Violet over his shoulder like that with just his hand on her back holding her in place. "I take it your hangover has been cured?"

He shrugs again, pulls Violet down into his arms. "I've had worse. Hey, wanna go for a walk or something?"

She tries not to smile too widely. She wonders if he's been listening to all she's been saying, or if he just does as he pleases and every once in a while it happens to be the same thing she wants.

"You didn't pick a day," she says seriously, holding up the calendar.

"What?" he laughs.

"A day. We each get one evening away from the house to get a break. You didn't pick."

"What'd you pick?" he asks, grabbing the calendar. It's all marked to shit with random stuff he'll maybe read later if he has time. "You can have a lame day. Like Tuesday. Tuesday's yours."

"Noah," she says, laughing again.

"Dibs on Saturday!" he calls over his shoulder after tossing the calendar onto the counter. He's heading for the front door and she shakes her head as she follows him, repeating her points on the importance of them having time for themselves.

But they have an actual conversation about his work and what he's going to do and how he may talk to Burt about some kind of position at the dealership, and she smiles as she pushes Violet's stroller, because they get along, sometimes, and she thinks this could actually work if that happened more often.


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel comes home from work one day looking so exhausted Puck kind of feels bad for her. She rubs her temple and closes her eyes as she walks into the living room. But she smiles and her entire face softens when she sees him laying on the couch with Violet on his stomach, both of them awake as cartoons play on the television. They haven't rally been paying attention. Kid loves this stuff, though, climbing all over him like this. She lets him hold her hands as they lay there, and she giggles and gets all super cute when he makes faces or sings to her or whatever. Yeah, he does it. He does all sorts of crap with this kid he never thought he'd do.

Rachel walks over and sits down on the coffee table so she's right next to them.

"Say hi to Rachel, kiddo," he says, and Violet babbles something incoherent, which makes Rachel laugh. "Rough day?"

"You have no idea," she mumbles. Her eyes are on the baby, not on Noah. "I have this client. Both spouses cheated, and they have two houses, four cars, and they refuse to split everything right down the middle. It's completely absurd."

"Sounds like they deserve each other," Puck says, groaning when Violet kicks her feet a little too hard and too close to his crotch. Rachel intervenes and picks up the baby.

"That's what I said," she tells him. "In a meeting. With my client, his soon to be ex-wife, her attorney, and a mediator present." He doesn't know much about lawyering or whatever you call it, but he can guess that's not such a good thing. So he winces and she nods and purses her lips. "It was _really_ great."

"Sucks," he says, because he really doesn't know what else to say. He sits up, then stands in front of her. "But hey. House is clean, kid's fed and changed, and there's lasagna in the oven."

She makes this noise he can't help but think she'd make in bed. It's this little moan that comes right from somewhere in her throat, and it kind of makes him feel awesome that he can pull sounds like that from her, even in a non-sexual way.

(Well, it was non-sexual until he heard the noise and pictured her with her back arched and her mouth open and...Yeah.)

"I was wondering what that smell was," she says quietly. She holds the baby to her chest for a moment, smiling at him. She wants to tell him he's doing an amazing job, but she doesn't know which words to use (a rarity for her) and she thinks he'd just brush her off anyway. "Thank you."

He shrugs one shoulder and walks into the kitchen, her following behind. "Whatever. Makes sense that whoever's home does the cooking, right?" he asks.

She sees a bottle of wine on the counter, along with fresh bread and garlic butter. She watches him grab the loaf, a cutting board, and she could honestly kiss him if he's about to make garlic bread.

"But you shouldn't have to do all the cooking," she says, and he shrugs again. "Noah, that doesn't really seem fair to you. I'm not home until 6:00, and you're here all day, and..."

He smirks and pulls a knife from the block. "You'll just owe me, then," he says.

She doesn't roll her eyes or tell him to stop being such a flirt or anything like that. She laughs. (They're both wondering if that means they're getting used to one another.)

"I'm going to go change. I'm taking her with me."

She says it all mock-seriously, holding the baby close to her with one hand like he might try to snatch her away, and Puck laughs and holds up his hands in surrender. Nevermind the fact that he's the one holding a knife.

She kicks off her shoes and he checks her out as she bends down to pick them up.

He doesn't know when (if) he'll ever get used to living with a woman.

... ... ...

He wakes up once in the middle of the night after hearing Violet crying, then suddenly stop. It's a little weird and it freaks him out, so he gets out of bed and heads in the direction of the nursery. He stops just outside the door, though, when he hears singing coming from the room.

Is there anything Rachel can't do? Maybe it's the fact that he's half asleep and it's hovering somewhere around 4:00 in the morning, but he doesn't think he's ever heard a voice so good. He steps a little closer, peeks inside the room and sees Rachel pacing slowly, bouncing Violet in her arms and singing some quiet, slow song he's never heard. When she sees him, she stops singing. It's weird, but he misses her voice.

She lays the baby down in her crib again, then walks to the door and tugs it mostly closed.

"I didn't know you could sing," he says quietly.

It's the middle of the night and she's standing right in front of him in this cotton nightgown thing. Her hair is messy and she's not wearing makeup. And she's blushing a little bit, too. He can tell, because they leave a night light glowing in the hall for times like this.

Anyway, she looks really good.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," she tells him.

She's not even flirting, he knows, but shit, he kind of hears it that way anyway. She means it as a fact, and it is one, but he still thinks about it long after they've gone back to their own rooms, what other secrets she has and when he might be able to learn them.

... ... ...

The day Puck finishes his last job for his business, he finds it pretty weird, how relieved he is.

It's not that he didn't enjoy what he did. Of course he did, or he wouldn't have done it so long. But it was never the plan to do it full time (well, full time, six months of the year). He had plans. He'd thought of maybe doing a landscaping thing, or even trying to become a dealer of hot tubs or whatever so he'd have something to do in the winter. But it's not his passion. Fuck, how could he love installing pools? Kind of a lame thing for one guy to do. But when you don't go to college and all you've ever really done is cleaned pools, you do the best with what you have.

Ad he's talked to Burt, who is more than happy to have Puck take a job at the dealership. It's a figurehead position, really, since Puck still has to take care of Violet while Rachel works. But basically, he's going to take care of the stuff out of Burt's wheelhouse. Things like staffing and making sure employees are happy and hitting sales goals and whatnot. Also, there's a lot of paperwork to sign, and Burt has been trying to do everything Finn used to do. No one really knows how he accomplished it, raised a kid and kept a wife happy.

So he's going to go to the dealership once or twice a week, and if he has to take Violet with him that's not a problem. And he's going to get paid for it. Not a bad gig.

Not to mention, he knows how hard Finn worked, how much he loved the dealership and his employees, and Puck's going to do right by his best friend. He'll be damned if he lets this place suffer.

So he walks into the house feeling hot and sweaty and gross and in need of a shower, but overall, pretty happy.

Rachel's laying on the sofa, on her side with the baby between her body and the back of the couch. They're both sleeping, Violet tucked against Rachel with her hand all wrapped up in the front of Rachel's shirt at her stomach. It leaves a few inches of Rachel's stomach bare. He leans against the door frame and tucks his hand into his pocket.

Rachel is a really easy woman to stare at. He's never denied that she's gorgeous. Hot, sexy, whatever. The first time he saw her, he asked Finn how hard it'd be to rail her. (What? He was younger and stuff, and it seemed like a legit question.) And yeah, that night he showed up at her place when she was still, you know, living at her place, he was totally ready to throw her down on her bed and fuck her until they both forgot their names.

But there's been something different about her lately. Seeing her with Violet is really awesome, first of all, because she's great with the kid. She lets loose and has a little fun and doesn't care about what she wears or how she sounds. She speaks like a normal person and smiles more and laughs all the damn time.

She's kind of beautiful.

He smiles when she shifts a little and rests her hand on Vi's stomach, and he figures if he gets caught staring at her it'll be a whole big thing, so he heads for the stairs and takes the shower he's been thinking about for the last two hours.

Rachel and Violet are awake when he heads downstairs again, and he grabs the baby right off Rachel's lap. Both girls are smiling at him, so he thinks that's pretty awesome. Rachel asks him about his day and they actually have a good conversation about things, where he doesn't want to strangle her and she doesn't look like she's two seconds away from slapping him.

... ... ...

Nearly a month into Rachel and Noah's guardianship, she starts thinking things are falling apart at the seams. Or perhaps the seams were merely pinned and never really sewn correctly to begin with.

It's 3:00 in the morning and she's got a crying baby on her hip, and it's been like this for the last half hour. Nothing she can say or do will stop Violet from crying, and Rachel really doesn't know what to do next.

She's tried everything she can think of, from soothers, to a teething ring, to Violet's favourite stuffed animal. She's tried holding her or leaving her in her crib, and nothing is working.

She starts crying herself when she realizes she may be the problem.

Then, like some kind of knight in plaid boxer shorts, Noah shows up in the doorway to the room with his fist rubbing his eye and asks her what the hell the problem is.

Rachel wipes her face with her free hand (she hates to let him see her cry) as he steps into the room and runs his hand over Violet's hair.

"She wants...She wants her mother," she manages.

He still thinks it's fucked up that she can't even say Quinn's name. She said Finn's the other day, but she can't say Quinn's.

"Oh," he says, still practically half asleep.

Rachel pulls the baby away from her body. "Here. Take her. Just...Just take her."

He does as she asks, and he does it quickly. She wants to thank him for that, but he's looking at her strangely, like she's lost her mind or something, and she turns her back to him. She hates that she needs his help so much. She hates that she couldn't quiet Violet down on her own. She hates that she can hear him, speaking soothingly and shh-ing the baby.

"I can't do this," she says suddenly, shaking her head, her vision clouded with tears. She turns to face him and he's just _looking_ at her. "I can't...This isn't supposed to happen. This shouldn't happen to anyone. I hate...I can't...And she's...She doesn't want _me_. She knows, Noah. She knows her parents aren't here. And I just worry that she'll never get over this. She'll never know them, and it's...God, it's breaking my heart."

"Okay," he says quietly. She thinks he might actually be showing compassion towards her. It's not unpleasant. "It's okay."

"It's not okay!" she shouts. She closes her eyes and covers her mouth. "I'm terrible at this."

"Rachel," he laughs, shaking his head, "you're not."

"I can't even get her to stop crying!"

"She's a baby," he says, smiling at her, his eyes sympathetic. He looks down at Violet, still crying in his arms, then back at Rachel. "I have an idea." She just stares at him. "Trust me, okay?"

When he walks out of the nursery and down the hall towards the closed door of the master bedroom. Rachel practically gasps when he reaches for the doorknob. He pushes it open and she rushes after him, stopping at the doorway while he walks in.

The room is still exactly as they must have left it before they went out that night. Two of Finn's ties are on the bed, and Quinn's makeup is left scattered on the vanity. The satin robe Quinn's sister got her as a bridal shower gift is draped over the chair in the corner of the room, and Finn's sock drawer is open.

Rachel feels the onset of another wave of tears when she sees the cocktail napkin framed on the wall from the night she and Quinn had snuck into a martini bar during their freshman year and decided to outline their ideal men. Quinn's napkin practically described Finn down to a 'T'.

"Noah."

"Shh," he says gently. Violet is still crying, but Rachel knows that one was meant for herself. She watches as he sits down on the bed and grabs one of the small throw pillows, holding it in his free hand, close to the baby.

Violet starts quieting down.

(Rachel still feels like she may be having a panic attack.)

She turns on her heel and walks back to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. It seems she's no longer needed.

She lays down on her bed and curls up on her side under the blankets in the dark. She can't believe she is so terrible at all this. Noah seems to have all the answers, spends all this time with the baby and just instinctively knows what Violet needs. Rachel can't get the girl to stop crying, even after she's pegged the problem.

She's not a mother. She's nobody's mother.

She's still crying 10 minutes later when there's a soft knock at the door right before it opens. She doesn't look at him. He says her name, then walks right in when she doesn't answer and sits down at the edge of her bed.

"She's asleep," he tells her. She nods, wipes her eye with the side of her wrist. "Look, are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You're crying."

She looks up at him and it's hard to glare when he's shirtless and actually showing concern, but she manages. "I'm _fine_."

He sighs and runs a hand over his face. He reaches over and turns the bedside lamp on. "Rachel, it's not a big deal if you miss Quinn."

She sighs and pulls the covers up over her shoulder a little more. "I know."

"And if you're freaking out over what this might be doing to Vi." She says nothing, just lays there and sniffles pathetically. He can't fucking deal with this. He stands and holds out his hand. "Get up."

She looks at him like he's crazy. "What?"

"Just get up, Rachel," he commands, and she pushes back the covers, sets her feet on the floor. She stands without taking his hand and he easily throws one arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest. "It's okay."

"I know," she whispers, arms still at her sides.

"No," he says harshly. "You don't fucking get it yet." She doesn't know what that means, but she finds herself wrapping her arms around his waist. "You don't have to be perfect all the fucking time. And you don't have to pretend you are when you know you're not."

"That's not what I do," she insists hotly, trying to pull away. He holds her tighter so she can't move away from him. She's not sure why it makes her start crying harder.

"Yeah, you do," he says, laughing a little. "But fuckin' stop it. Violet doesn't care." He runs a hand down her spine when he feels her flatten her hand on his back. "She just cares that you're around."

"But what about when she..."

He loosens his hold on her and shakes his head as they look at one another. She looks so fucking sad that he almost can't handle it. "We'll deal with all that shit when it happens."

She takes a breath and tries not to notice how warm his palms are on her hips. "You're so much better at this than I am. All of this."

He pushes her away so she's at arms length, looking up at him. This isn't the first time ever that he's seen her with no makeup on. It's just scary that he still thinks she's fucking gorgeous. That's not the point right now, but it registers in among everything else.

"I'm not. We're just...we got different styles, you and me."

She laughs through her tears and shakes her head, pulling her arms away from him so she can wipe her face again. "You're being uncharacteristically sweet right now. I hope you know that." He smirks and shrugs one shoulder. "I'm just so overwhelmed."

"I know."

"But you're Mr. Calm and Cute and 'look at me, I give the stuffed animals voices and characters,'" she says. He glares at her.

She totally wasn't supposed to know that.

"That's between me and Vi."

She laughs. That's what he was going for.

"I just don't want to be the absentee...I don't want her to question..."

"She's 11 months old. She can't question anything," he reminds her. She laughs again and shakes her head. "Go back to sleep."

"I don't think I can," she admits. "I can't sleep when I worry."

He pushes her away completely, watches her tuck her legs (those shorts are barely shorts, really) under her covers as she lays down. He heads for the door and says, "try," over his shoulder.

That was some kind of random, fucked up moment where he was very close to asking her if she wanted him to stay, and he doesn't think he'd want to hear her answer either way.

... ... ...

Puck's surprised when he wakes up and hears Rachel in the kitchen. When he walks past the nursery, he notices Violet isn't in there, then hears her giggling in the kitchen. To be honest, he really figured Rachel would head for the office before the sun was even up. He wouldn't have been surprised, really, even if she didn't get any sleep at all.

He walks into the kitchen in just his sweat pants like he does every morning, and sees Rachel there in her business suit, like she wears every morning. She's got on this light green shirt underneath and her hair half pulled up. She looks happy. It's almost like she didn't have a nervous breakdown or whatever in the middle of the night.

"Morning," he mumbles, going straight for the coffee mug on the counter, just like every morning. She always pours him a cup. She's kind of cool like that.

"Good morning," she says, laughing as she attempts to get Violet to eat her pieces of banana.

It's almost creepy. She's acting like last night didn't happen at all.

"How are you?" he asks. She finally looks over at him, and she almost looks pissed at him for mentioning anything about it, even if he's not, really.

"I'm fine," she insists, giving him this smile. It's not a genuine one, really. He can tell.

"Rachel."

"I'll pick something up for dinner, okay? Don't worry about that, and..."

"You're working too hard," he says out of nowhere. He's not wrong.

She furrows her brow and looks at him like he's lost his mind or out of his depth. "I beg your pardon?"

"Call in sick. Take a day off. Hang out at home," he says. He isn't really sure why he wants her to do it so badly.

"I can't, Noah," she says, shaking her head. She stands up and walks over to pour herself another cup of coffee. "I have meetings all morning. And I've already taken a lot of time off because of everything."

"So? Fuck 'em if they don't like it."

She's smiling a little when she hits his arm with the back of her hand. "Don't curse around her, please," she says. He rolls his eyes and she points at him, narrows her eyes jokingly. "I really can't. But my afternoon isn't too bad, so I should be home at a decent hour." Her hand brushes flat down his arm before she walks away, back to Violet and kisses the girl's forehead. "Have a good day."

"Yeah, you too," he says.

He watches her go, like he does every morning.

He goes about his day as usual, cleans Violet up and gets her dressed in what he thinks is a really fucking adorable outfit. They're these little jeans and a little white tee shirt with The Beatles' Love logo in black lettering. It's awesome. He bought it for her and didn't tell Rachel. He also puts on the tiniest, most kickass pair of Chuck Taylors. She looks like the most badass baby on the planet. She is, if you ask him.

Sometime in the last month or so, he's gone from thinking she's pretty cool, this kid, to knowing he's ass over feet in love with her. He never really got it, you know? The whole kid thing. Sure, they're cute and they can be kind of funny or whatever, but he never put much thought into actually getting one. Having one. Whatever. Spending time with her, being the one to take care of her, he realizes how cool kids can be. Like when he's playing with her and she does something so fucking smart (given that she's 11 months old) and he's reminded that she's a person. She's a little person who's going to start walking soon and talking and all that stuff.

Anyway, whatever. He loves the kid.

He gets everything he might possibly need and drops it all into a bag. There are two diaper bags here, and he remembers Finn bitching to Quinn about her stupid white bag. She bought him one, just plain black. It's far more awesome. Stupid girls and their stupid picking girly stuff. Whatever.

He grabs the baby and gets her all strapped into the car, waves to the neighbours he doesn't give a shit about (they're all nosey fuckers who are way too interested in what he and Rachel are doing). He loads the stroller into the back of the SUV and makes sure Vi is cool chilling in the back seat. She's happy and smiling, kicking her feet and squealing when she sees him. Can't say he doesn't love that.

They drive into town and he finds a prime parking spot right in front of Rachel's office. No way is he carrying all the stuff he has into the office, but he's learned by now that you never, ever go anywhere without a diaper. He grabs the stroller from the back and gets it all set up, then pulls Violet from her carseat. The problem is that she doesn't want anything to do with the stroller, so he hitches her up on his arm and she puts her hand on his neck like she always does. When he enters the building, he checks to see what floor Rachel's on. 10th. Once he's in the elevator, he shoots a smile to the not-exactly-unattractive woman who's smiling at him and looking at him like he's, you know, awesome for walking around with this baby. He's kind of used to those looks now.

He steps onto Rachel's floor and asks the receptionist where her office is, then makes his way through the halls. He feels like an idiot for about two seconds, since everyone else is in business suits that probably cost more than his entire closet full of clothes, but whatever. He knows he looks good in his jeans and tee shirt.

Rachel is totally surprised when she sees him walk through her office door, which is cool, 'cause that was totally the idea. "What are you doing here?" she asks, standing from her chair.

He takes a look around her office. It's bigger than his last apartment. No lie. She's got a huge desk, two chairs across from it, a couch, her own bathroom (seriously) and two walls lined with books. There are floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. He wonders for the first time how much money she actually makes.

"Thought we'd come visit. We're taking you to lunch," he tells her as she takes Violet from him. She walks over and closes the door when she realizes that two of her coworkers have come to stare and eavesdrop.

He watches her look at him with these really soft eyes, like she thinks he's the most awesome guy ever for doing this.

"I have something to finish up," she says after a moment. "It'll take about 15 minutes."

"We can wait," he says, shrugging his shoulder. She smiles again, passes Violet back to him.

She looks around, at him then at the stroller. "Noah, didn't you bring a bag? Where are her things? You don't have..."

"Relax," he laughs. "Stuff's in the car." He pulls a diaper from his back pocket, and she laughs, puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head. "'S'all I need right now. You know, just in case."

Her heels click on the hardwood as she walks back behind her desk and sits down, pulling her chair closer to her workspace. She reaches for her pen and groans when her phone rings. Puck sits Violet down on the couch next to him, puts his arm around her a little bit and laughs when she stuffs her fist into her mouth.

"No, Robert, those aren't the terms we agreed to." Rachel's voice is totally hard and badass, and she sits back in her chair and lets out a humourless laugh. "Well, that's too bad. He can't change his mind now. The reason we settled out of court as so his indiscretions wouldn't be made public. If he wants the summer home that badly, he can weigh it against the whole world knowing he had an affair with his 21-year-old caddy."

Puck raises his brow and looks at her. He totally wants to know who she's talking about. He knows she won't give it up, and he knows she probably shouldn't even be talking about it with him in the room. Confidentiality or some shit. Whatever. Who's he gonna tell? He spends the majority of his time with a kid who can't even really talk.

Still, it's kind of awesome to see her doing her thing. And she's kind of amazing at it. There are all kinds of diplomas on her wall, and pictures of her with a bunch of important people. She's got an assistant and this huge office and...

Fuck. He's totally Mr. Mom, and she's the one out kicking ass and taking names. A few months ago, he would have said 'fuck that' to anyone who suggested he'd ever be this guy. But hey, you do what you have to do, right?

When they leave her office, he's pushing the empty stroller and Rachel is carrying Violet, and she stops and makes a little small talk with people when they talk to her. It seems everyone knows about their situation, but no one has ever seen the baby. When the finally make it down to the street, Rachel places Violet in the stroller while Puck grabs the diaper bag from his car. Rachel takes them to this cool little Italian place a couple blocks away, and gives Violet a breadstick to chew on before turning back to Puck.

"You know, you didn't have to do this," she says. He notices she's not even looking at the menu.

"Maybe I did it for me," he says, not bothering to look at her. It's not a total lie. "Only place I go anymore is the park or the dealership."

She doesn't know what to make of the little smirk on his face, so she pulls down his menu and he meets her eyes. "What's that smirk for, Puckerman?"

He almost laughs. It would have been kind of hot if she'd called him Puck. Not that he cares or anything.

"Nothing," he says, shrugging his shoulder. "I don't hate the park."

She doesn't know what that means, so she simply leans over and looks for a particular item on the menu. "Try the veal parm. You'll love it."

He generally doesn't like it when people say shit like that, but he really does love Italian food, and she's probably right, he would like it. He doesn't look at her when he orders, though, because he has the feeling she'll be all smug and stuff.

Then she steals a cherry tomato from his salad and he doesn't even glare at her or anything.

This whole situation is totally making him soft.


	4. Chapter 4

Saturday morning comes and Rachel decides that 10:00 is far later than Noah really needs to sleep, even if he was up until nearly 2:00 (she heard him come upstairs) watching movies and sipping beer. She doesn't care what he does, and she's more than capable of caring for Violet on her own, but she has plans for today and, surprisingly, they involve him.

So she walks into his room after knocking gently and getting no answer. Violet is in Rachel's arms and lights up when she sees Noah laying in his bed. Rachel can't decide if it's strange that he seems to wear shirts only half the time, or if she wants to have a bonfire and torch his shirts so he can't wear them the other half.

He's attractive, alright? She's never denied it. Sleeping, he almost looks innocent, which she could laugh at if she thought about it too hard.

She sits down at the edge of the bed, and she's more than just a little shocked at how warm she feels. Her cheeks are hot. It's very strange. Noah doesn't stir. She sets Violet down on the bed and the girl starts to crawl towards him, eventually pushing herself up so she's half standing with her hands braced on his chest. Rachel can't help but laugh, and Noah blinks his eyes open slowly.

He chuckles a little, bringing his hand up to rest on Violet's back, and he leans up, kisses her cheek before laying back down. "Hey," he mumbles sleepily. "Time 's'it?"

"After 10:00," Rachel answers. He grunts in response, eyes still closed. Rachel leans back a little bit, braces her arm behind her, and it brushes up against Noah's leg. She moves it, but she thinks she sees a hint of a smile on his lips before she looks away. Maybe she's making it up, though she can't even figure out why she would. "I wasn't going to wake you, but I was thinking we could all go to the park together."

This one is definitely a smile. "Yeah?" he asks, opening his eyes again. Violet sits down and smacks him on the chest. He laughs and grabs onto her hand. "God, this kid is violent." Rachel laughs and shakes her head. "She sacked me the other day, I swear."

"I'm sure it was on purpose," Rachel giggles. He raises his brow. "Would you like to come with us?"

"Yeah, yeah," he insists, sitting up a little, leaning on one elbow. "Coffee downstairs?"

Rachel smiles and stands, leans over to pick up the baby. "I'll make another pot."

She tells herself the wink he sends her is just a thank you and nothing more.

She takes Violet downstairs and realizes she's become a pro at putting the coffee maker on one-handed. Really, she's perfected the art. Even this morning when Mrs. Fabray calls to check in and chat, Rachel balances the baby, the phone, and still manages to get the coffee maker turned in.

Is it strange that she thinks this is a more impressive accomplishment than winning some woman a home in a divorce trial?

When Noah jogs down the stairs in jeans and a white tee shirt, Rachel hands him a travel mug of coffee and a piece of toast with peanut butter (she's never seen a man love peanut butter so much in all her life) and he smiles at her, mumbles a thanks with his mouth full.

Once they're walking through their neighbourhood, Violet in Noah's arms (no matter how much he'd probably deny it, that little girl has him completely wrapped around her little finger), Rachel brings up something Mrs. Fabray reminded her of this morning.

"What do you think we should do for her birthday?"

"Dunno," he says. He takes a sip of his coffee and looks over at her. "She's one. You think she even realizes?"

"Well, it's not like she'll remember it," Rachel admits. "But...I'm just thinking of the future. She'll know this was the year..." She sighs and glances at him, squinting against the sunlight. "It would be nice to have good memories. For all of us."

"Selfish," he teases, nudging her with his elbow. She rolls her eyes. "Naw, that's a good idea."

"So we should have a party," Rachel insists.

Puck stops walking, and Rachel turns around. The skirt of the cotton dress she's wearing twirls around her thighs. "A party? That sounds...lame."

"No it doesn't! It would be great. Her grandparents could be there, and her aunt and uncle and cousins. It would just be...I want to have pictures."

He sighs, but he has to admit it's really not a bad idea at all. Yeah, it'd basically be the most depressing one year old's birthday ever, but he's pretty sure Rachel would kick anyone out who referred to the fact that Vi won't even know her parents.

"Can we have beer?" he asks hopefully. He hopes she knows that means he's on board. Rachel laughs and nods. "And we're grilling. Casual. I don't want all that Fabray stuffy shit up in this party."

Rachel glares at him for swearing, but whatever. He gets that all the time, and he really, really does try not to curse in front of Violet, especially because she's making all sorts of sounds now and is probably really close to coming out with some words. He wouldn't be too thrilled if they were swears. Actually, that'd be awesome, but he's so not letting it happen.

"And the Fabray's aren't stuffy," Rachel says as they start walking again.

He laughs heartily and tosses his empty travel mug into the bottom of the stroller. "Babe, they totally are."

She gives him this sexy look from the corner of her eye and he wonders if it's because he called her babe. Weird. It's been a while since he did that. Or maybe not. It kind of just slips out sometimes. She doesn't usually mention it anymore like she did in the beginning. Either she doesn't care, or she just knows he's not going to stop.

When they get to the park, Puck goes about his regular routine. He dumps their shit by the big oak tree that always has the best shade, and carries Vi towards the swings. Girl loves the freaking swings. Rachel tells him in no uncertain terms that she wants to push, so he holds up his hands and stands back, and they talk more about who to invite to this party as Violet smiles in the little swing.

Rachel notices, as Noah stands there with a hand on his hip and the other bracing him against the metal bar of the swing set, that the women at the park are most definitely watching him. And talking. And glaring at her. He catches one of their eyes at one point, offers a nod and a little smile.

"I'm starting to understand why you enjoy the park so much," Rachel says out of nowhere.

He actually looks over his shoulder at the three women sitting on the park bench watching their kids play on the jungle gym. "What?" he asks innocently.

Rachel laughs. "Nice try. You're their eye candy."

He smirks again and raises his brow. "I'm a lot of peoples' eye candy."

Rachel rolls her eyes and lifts Violet out of the swing so they can go sit on the grass. He watches the way she shakes her head, the little glint in her eye and wonders what it means.

"They probably think I'm your wife," she tells him, and he laughs again.

She doesn't know what's so funny about that.

"Betcha over half of 'em would try to bang me anyway," he says, a cocky grin spreading across his lips.

Rachel makes a face and sits down, legs stretched out in front of her on the grass. "That's disturbing. Aren't they all married as well?" He shrugs. He doesn't care. Not like he's actually gonna do it. Although he can't say he hates the idea of getting laid, like, ASAFP. "You should find a different park."

He laughs again, leans back against his elbows as Violet plays around on the little blanket Rachel brought. "'S'gonna be the same anywhere. Look at me."

She does.

"You seem to have a very high opinion of yourself," she mutters. He shrugs one shoulder, tips his head back. "Though I suppose if I were a housewife whose only joy came from watching the young father at the park..."

"I'm not a father," he scoffs. She smiles at him, tilts her head. "What?"

"You practically are," she tells him. She reaches out to hold Violet's hands as the girl stands up.

That shit is heavy. He doesn't really think of it like that. He's just Violet's...He's her...He's the guy who takes care of her. She has a father. He doesn't want to replace Finn in any way other than he already has.

"Anyway," she says, breaking him from his thoughts. "I can't really blame them for looking."

"Hell no, you can't."

"Stop smirking like that," Rachel laughs. "I mean because you're a young man, and you're clearly...You aren't unattractive." He grins again. He'd so love to call her out on that description. Not unattractive? _Come on._ "It's an interesting double standard, really. If men saw me with Violet, they probably wouldn't be attracted to me."

He sits up a little and looks at her like she's nuts. Clearly, the woman has no clue how people look at her.

"Yeah they would," he says easily. He doesn't look at her, because he's sure he's not ready to see whatever expression is on her face.

She's on her knees now, with Violet 'walking' (still holding Rachel's hands) towards him. "I don't believe that for a second."

He looks at her, takes in the subtle, sexy curve of her waist, the deep v of her neckline and the tone of her skin. He notes the colour of her lips, the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles down at Violet. They're all the things he liked about her in the first place (well, to put it broadly, how fucking sexy she is), but he's pretty sure her looks just barely scratch the surface of the things he likes about her now. She's really not all that bad.

"You should," he says simply, taking Violet's hands when she's close to him.

Rachel blushes, stands up and brushes a hand against the back of her dress to get the grass off. "Is that a compliment?" she asks when she notices him looking at her. He's still holding Violet up and he shrugs his shoulder. She laughs again. "I'll take that as a yes, though I do enjoy it when you actually use your words."

He rolls his eyes and lets go of the one hand of Violet's he was holding and runs it over his head.

He doesn't really understand why Rachel starts freaking out and squealing an drops to her knees on the grass again. He's seriously two seconds from asking her what the fuck drugs she's taking that kicked in like a switch like that. But then he realizes she's staring at Violet with her eyes all wide.

"She's walking!" she cries, looking over Violet's head at Puck. "She's _walking_, Noah!"

She is, too. Well, she's kind of toddling along on the balls of her feet and swaying like a drunk guy at a bachelor party or something, but she's doing it on her own and that's pretty exciting. She ends up in Rachel's arms, all pulled up against Rachel's chest. He laughs when Rachel kisses Violet's face all over and talks a mile a minute. Then she sets Violet back on her feet and turns her so she's facing Puck, and he smiles (he's really fucking proud, okay?) as Vi wobbles towards him. She could make it about three steps before, until she fell on her ass and started crying. This time, she makes it all the way over to him, and he grabs onto her, picks her up and kisses her cheek.

"She's a champ," he says, looking at Rachel. She's got her hands clasped and tucked under her chin, her phone on the blanket, dropped there after she took a couple pictures.

Rachel thinks she might cry. Violet is just so perfect, so amazing, and she's been waiting for this day. She was really hoping she'd be around for it, too. Noah's progress reports when she comes home from work are always good, but her heart would twist every time he mentioned Violet getting closer to walking. Selfishly, she wanted to be around for it.

She crawls across the blanket, knowing she must look completely ridiculous but not caring in the slightest. She stops right in front of Noah, their knees touching as they both kneel with Violet between them. Rachel wraps her arms around him, and it takes him a moment, but his free arm comes around her and lands on her back where her dress has left the skin bare. Her lips are touching his ear, and she knows that if she moves it'll just call attention to that fact, so she stays put for a moment, just hugs him before pulling away.

When she sits back on her legs and catches sight of those women again from the corner of her eye, she smiles and puts her hand on his knee.

"They definitely think I'm your wife," she tells him.

He rolls his eyes and glances over, and yeah, they look totally disappointed or something.

"Whatever," he mumbles.

Rachel doesn't know what that means, really, but it's better than him insisting there's no way on earth he'd ever be married to her. He asks her if she wants to go, and she shakes her head, sits down and tucks her legs to her side.

"Let's stay here for a while," she says. He smiles and nods, sets Violet down again and they all seem to be laughing as Violet makes laps around the blanket.

... ... ...

Rachel comes down the stairs one night after putting Violet to bed, and Puck hands over a bottle of beer he opened for her. He doesn't see her drink all that much, but she told him earlier she was craving a beer. He remembers stuff sometimes. She tucks her legs beneath her on the sofa and listens to the cop drama he's watching for a moment.

"Do you think it's strange she isn't talking more?" she asks.

"Dunno," he shrugs. Doesn't this woman know not to talk during a high speed car chase? Jesus. "Maybe."

"I know she was saying mama and dada before. She's making sounds, but she's not saying words. I'm thinking of calling a specialist."

He turns off the television, because she's ruining the show anyway and he already knows the bad guy gets caught (c'mon, when doesn't the bad guy get caught?). He turns to Rachel and vaguely notes that she looks good with a beer bottle sitting on her knee. It's been hot out, so she's wearing these criminally tiny shorts and a plain white tee shirt. It's not a bad look on her. (He's waiting to find one of those, actually.)

"Really?" he asks. "You think that's necessary? She's a baby."

"I know that, but I don't want her to be behind. And I wonder what it means that she's not asking for her mother and father."

"Means she's a baby and she doesn't know what the hell's going on half the time," he answers. He laughs a little, but Rachel doesn't look amused. "She still tries to put her toes in her mouth, Rach. She's not exactly a genius."

"Noah!" she cries, swatting his arm. "You don't know that."

"Just give her a little more time before you start callin' people, alright? She'll be fine. I'll get her talking."

Rachel looks at him doubtfully. "And just how do you propose you're going to do that?" she asks.

"Quit doubting me, woman," he mumbles, turning back to the television and switching it on again. "Now shut it. Hotch's about to take this fucker down."

He's got no fucking clue how to get this kid talking, but he can't get out of it now. He'll just have to consult the book on raising kids in this kind of situation. And no, Rachel doesn't know he has that. He'd like it to stay that way, too.

... ... ...

Rachel has had the worst day in a while, and it surprises her that all she wants to do is get home and spend time with Violet _and_ Noah. It's interesting, the way he's become a part of her day. She looks forward to the half hour or so in the morning when they sit in the kitchen and talk. She likes coming home and knowing he's there with the baby. She really loves the way Violet lights up when she sees Rachel. And sometimes, when Rachel ventures a glance in Noah's direction, she'll see him smiling over that, too.

When she pulls onto their street, though, she sees an unfamiliar silver sedan parked in front of the house, and she tries to remember what kind of car Finn's mother drives. She realizes it's blue, so this can't be Mrs. Hummel.

When she pushes open the front door and hears a feminine laugh coming from the kitchen, the rage comes quickly and unexpectedly.

She doesn't expect Noah to be celibate. She does expect him, especially since he'd promised her, not to bring his women to the house and around Violet.

She doesn't bother kicking off her heels before she walks straight to the kitchen with half a mind to take Violet and just leave the house. She's sure the Fabray's would be happy to have them for a night.

She's inside the doorway to the kitchen when she sees a middle-aged woman stirring something at the stove while Noah stands next to her and Violet toddles around on the floor near his feet.

"Hey," he says, jutting his chin towards her, a smile on his face.

"Hi," she says. She'd still like to know who this woman is that's staring at her.

"This is her?" the woman asks, looking to Noah. "Skinny."

Rachel reels back a little, surprised, before regaining her composure. "I'm Rachel Berry." She walks forward and extends her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm Noah's mother, since he's forgotten his manners and didn't introduce me," the woman says. She shakes Rachel's hand, and Rachel feels a little less tense.

"She came by without calling," Noah says, like he's annoyed by the whole thing. Rachel can tell, however, that he's definitely interested in whatever is cooking on the stove. "I tried calling you, but..."

"I was in a meeting and forgot to turn my phone back on," Rachel explains. "I'm sorry." Violet comes over and rests her hand on Rachel's leg, so she leans down to pick the girl up. "Hi, sweetie."

"Do you make a habit of being out of touch?" Mrs. Puckerman asks.

Rachel's mouth goes dry. She should not be nervous in front of this woman. She's close to 30, and there is no need for her to be intimidated.

"Mom," Noah intervenes. It sounds like a warning. One Mrs. Puckerman doesn't heed.

"I'm just curious. You can't blame me for wondering. We're just all lucky it was nothing more serious, hmm?"

Rachel casts a glance at Noah, and he just purses his lips like he wants to apologize but doesn't dare do it with this evil woman around to slap him or breathe fire.

But she still doesn't know how to respond to that claim. She decides on a subject change.

"What are you cooking? Smells great," Rachel says diplomatically.

She can see Noah trying not to laugh. There's a brisket in the oven (she knows the smell of a good brisket). Rachel is a vegetarian.

"Brisket. I can give you the recipe. That is, if you bother to cook," Mrs. Puckerman says.

Rachel grinds her teeth. She doesn't know what the hell she ever did to this woman to deserve this kind of treatment. She's doing her best, here, and her best happens to be very good, if you ask her. Or anyone, really. Even Carole, who Rachel can assume is a friend of Mrs. Puckerman's is always saying that Rachel is a natural and is balancing everything very well.

It's not like she's just some random girl Noah brought home. This clearly wasn't their first choice of a life. She doesn't think she should be in the line of fire for no reason.

"That would be lovely, thank you," Rachel says politely. Noah takes an audible breath.

"So tell me, Rachel, do you find it works well, leaving my son here with an infant all day?" Mrs. Puckerman asks.

"Mom!" Noah shouts. "God. _Enough_."

Mrs. Puckerman puts her hand on her hip, the wooden spoon jutting out to the side as she stares at her son. "Well, it just hardly seems fair to me. She's out all day walking around in those suits doing god knows what, and you're here with the child."

"It's none of your business," he tells her as gently as he can. Rachel senses it's very hard for him, either because he wants to say more, or he has a hard time talking back to his mother.

Rachel, herself, has a few choice words she'd just _love_ to say right now.

But she's already somehow made a terrible impression and she won't tarnish her name any further with this woman, even though it seems Mrs. Puckerman has already made up her mind on what she thinks of Rachel. It's not fair, and Rachel doesn't like it, and she's sure she could talk her way into the good books, but she doesn't think she even cares enough to try.

She walks over, hands the baby to Noah, and avoids eye contact with all of them before walking from the room. She manages to keep the tears at bay until she reaches the top of the stairs.

Puck can't believe his mom just did that. Sure, she treats him like he's a piece of crap sometimes, but she's his mom and he's given her reason in the past. She's never even met Rachel before and she pulled that shit. No wonder Rachel just walked away. If it were him, he'd still be standing there yelling that the woman had no right to pass judgment like that.

"Nice, ma," he says, shaking his head as he repositions Violet on his hip. "Couldn't leave it alone, could you?"

"I'm sorry, Noah," she says, and he rolls his eyes because he knows she's not sorry about any of it. "I was just saying my piece."

He looks down at Vi, presses one ear against his shoulder and covers the other with his hand before he speaks. "No, you were a total bitch."

"That woman works all those hours, and..."

"And you worked insane shifts while me and Hannah were growing up," he argues. "'S'not fair for you to go after her." She opens her mouth, but closes it again. "Keep stirring that shit. I gotta go clean up your mess."

He knows she expects him to leave Violet there with her, but ever since the kid realized she could walk without falling over she hasn't really wanted to be held as much, and right now she seems content to just sit there in his arms, so he's not about to put her down. He walks up the stairs and Vi squirms to be let down right outside Rachel's door. He knocks a few times and she doesn't answer. When the door is pulled open and she's walking away and he sees that she's fastening her jeans closed. Shit. He doesn't know why he feels a little disappointed.

Well, yeah he does. She's sexy and he almost saw her panties, and that would never be a bad thing.

Violet walks into the room in front of him, and he pushes the door almost all the way closed. He knows his mother hears like a freaking bat, so he wouldn't be surprised if she was listening extra hard.

"You alright?" he asks after a moment. She's unbuttoning her shirt, though, so it's a little hard to concentrate on anything other than that.

And she's wearing a black bra with her white tank top. Unexpected. And sexy.

"You know, I didn't ask for any of this either," she says angrily, pulling her arms from the shirt and tossing it carelessly onto a chair in the room. "I'm doing the best I can. I can't just quit my job. I won't. And it's not fair of that woman to come into this house and insinuate that I'm some kind of terrible caregiver just because I choose to work!"

"I know."

"And you know what else?" she asks. She turns around just as she pulls the black tee shirt over her head, pulls her hair from the back. "I don't appreciate her saying I don't cook. I cook!"

He doesn't want to laugh. He really doesn't. "I know you do."

She sits down on her bed and runs her hand over her face. She's quieter when she speaks again. "It's like she took all the things I'm insecure about and just picked at them until I broke."

He sits down next to her and Violet comes over to stand in front of Rachel, her hands on Rachel's knees.

"You know I don't think any of that crap, right?" he asks after a moment. She just looks at him, like she might not believe him. "C'mon, Rachel. You think if I had a problem with you, I'd keep it to myself?"

She laughs a little, wipes her cheek. "I suppose that's true."

He slings an arm around her, and Violet giggles a little for some reason. "We're good at this," he assures her. Rachel looks up at him, all hopeful and shit. "We got this. Look. Kid's happy and walking and...Well, shit. She's effing adorable."

She laughs again, slides her hand down his thigh before reaching down to pick up the baby.

"Admittedly, we don't have much to do with that part," Rachel insists.

"Whatever." He shrugs his shoulder. "Look, I really should get back downstairs. You don't have to. Hell, if I could get out of this, I would."

"She's your mother," Rachel says, standing from her place.

"Yeah, and you saw what she could do to a perfect stranger. Imagine what she'll do to me," he says. She laughs again and he holds up his hand for a high five.

He doesn't know when they started doing that, but one day he accomplished something he thought was impressive, and he high fived her. It just kind of stuck as their 'thing'. He doesn't mind it. Actually, he thinks it's kind of awesome.

"I was actually thinking I'd take Violet over to the Fabray's this evening," Rachel says, and it's not a total lie.

The truth is, she just cannot fathom sitting through a meal with Mrs. Puckerman right now. And she really isn't in the mood to either eat meat, or fake eating meat.

Puck widens his eyes. "If you take this kid outta here, she'll be..."

"What?" Rachel laughs. "She'll be unpleasant?"

Well, she's got a point there.

"Do your thing," he says.

He thinks it's kind of kick ass that she's totally sticking up to his mom in, like, the most passive aggressive way ever.

Rachel walks towards the door and she touches his shoulder, sliding her hand along it as she passes.

He sucks in a breath as he heads down the stairs and tries to figure out how he's going to tell his mom Rachel's leaving with Violet.

(He settles on telling her she pissed Rachel off, which is totally the truth, and she just sighs and tells him she hopes he's hungry. He knows there's more she wants to say, but she keeps it to herself.)


	5. Chapter 5

So yeah, Puck has no freaking clue how he's going to get this kid talking. The thing is, she makes all the right sounds and stuff, she just can't seem to put them together all that well. He looked through his book, which was basically just full of psycho babble and crap that didn't help him at all. That shit is hidden under his bed, too, so Rachel won't, like, think he's a good guy or something, even if she already does and he can't convince her he's a jackass like everyone else seems so quick to assume. He checked one of the million books Rachel has on 'child-rearing' (seriously, that woman has OCD, he'd swear) and it says to be patient and understand that all children develop at different paces and blah, blah, blah.

Whatever. He's not a patient guy, and this kid needs to start talking before her grandparents start questioning whether or not he's any good at this shit.

So he starts saying little words with her while she's playing and eating and stuff. Like 'ball' and 'milk' and 'juice'. He probably sounds like a moron, enunciating these words so seriously all the time, but it's okay, because he can tell she's getting closer and closer to actually saying stuff.

One day at lunch, after she's finished her yogurt, he's filling her cup with juice and she's got her spoon in her hand, just gripping it tightly like she always does (he thinks it's cute). She's tapping it against her little plastic bowl and he's just closing the fridge when he hears her fucking adorable little voice.

"More."

He widens his eyes and stares at her for a second, and she says it again, still drumming her spoon against her bowl.

"Did you...? You just..." He walks over and sits down in the chair in front of her high chair.

"More!" she squeals.

He doesn't care that her bib is totally covered in yogurt and juice and some half-chewed crackers and whatever. He lifts her up out of her chair and she hits him in the face with her spoon.

"Holy shit, you're a genius," he says, kissing her cheek as she keeps hitting him.

Apparently she wants more yogurt.

... ... ...

Rachel is completely shocked, to be honest, that Noah did what he told her he'd do. But when she comes home and he's all excited and tells her Violet said 'more' when he was feeding her, she's so proud of both of them, it's really almost funny.

And then Noah spends the whole night getting Violet to say the word over and over until they're all laughing so hard they can barely breathe.

She knows he didn't plan any of this, but that doesn't change the fact that he's excellent at it.

... ... ...

It's a few days later and Puck is walking through the upstairs hallway after they've put Violet down for the night. Rachel had an early morning and a rough day, so she told him she was going to take a bath and just go to bed. He was checking his email in his room before deciding he'd head downstairs again and grab a snack and watch some prime time sports.

When he passes Rachel's room the door is open a crack, and he's fucking shocked at what he sees.

He doesn't _mean_ to look. Really, he doesn't. It's just that when there's a naked woman, wet and using a towel to dry the ends of her hair...Well, he can't not stop for just a second and stare.

Goddamn, she's gorgeous. Her back is to him, and he can see her skin glistening, still wet from her bath. Her ass is spectacular. Seriously. He's spent enough time looking at it, but it's really perfect so it's not his fault. She's got this smooth looking skin, all soft curves. God, he could just grab onto her hips and hold her tight until she told him what she wanted him to do with her,_ to her_. Her back is lean, and he wants to run his fingertips up the line of her spine, maybe lick that water away. And when she turns to the side, he sees her breasts, nipples in hard little peaks from the air that's probably cool against her damp skin. She runs one hand over her pelvic bone collecting beads of water and then wiping her hand on her towel. He grits his teeth so he doesn't groan.

He walks away before she catches him looking or he starts feeling like a pervert. Seriously, she's nothing more than his roommate. She's just the woman he lives with. He does not want to sleep with her. He cannot start thinking with his dick now. He's been doing so well.

It's also been a long time since he had sex. Way too damn long. But he's not going to sleep with Rachel. No way. They have to raise this kid together, and he's not going to fuck it up but fucking her.

He could _want_ to sleep with her without _actually_ sleeping with her, right? People do that shit all the time, don't they?

He walks down the stairs, adjusting his jeans as he goes, and realizes that yes, _people_ do that all the time.

_He_ never has.

... ... ...

The backyard is crawling with people. Puck's mom and sister (he's keeping the former far away from Rachel), Rachel's dads, Mrs. H. and Burt, Kurt and his boyfriend or whatever. The Fabray's are there, and Quinn's sister, her husband and three kids. A few of Finn and Quinn's other friends are there, some of them with kids and some not. Puck's at the grill, cooking up burgers and hotdogs and stuff, and Rachel is sipping a beer in her dark jeans and printed tank top. Her hair is in some kind of fancy ponytail thing, and she laughs at something one of her friends says. Violet is with Mrs. Fabray, sitting comfortably on the woman's lap and playing with the wrapping paper from one of the gifts she just unwrapped (with a little help).

It's a good day. No sadness, really.

He and Rachel woke up and gave Violet their presents to her before anyone else arrived. It was nice to have it just be the three of them. Puck was well aware that it'd be mayhem when people started showing up and fawning over the birthday girl.

And she looks fucking cute as hell in this little yellow dress he and Rachel found for her at this fancy little baby store near Rachel's office.

It's weird that she's one, though. He still remembers Finn calling him freaking the hell out because Quinn was late and just took a home test that said she was pregnant. He'd called from the garage, and Puck can still picture Finn sitting on top of the deep freeze or pacing or something, talking on the phone in that whispering 'I'm totally shitting my pants' tone of his. Puck remembers telling Finn to, _"Go the fuck back inside and deal with the wife you knocked up!"_ He knew then everything was going to change.

He had no idea it'd be like this.

He takes a long pull off his beer bottle and flips a burger to try and distract himself.

Rachel comes up the steps onto the back deck and looks around his arm to the barbecue. "How's the meat?" she asks, cringing a little.

"I got my meat under control, thank you very much," he says, laughing when she pulls a face and shakes her head.

"Really, Noah, there are children around."

He smirks, turns to her a little. "Good thing my meat isn't out of con..."

"Stop it," she says, swatting his arm as they both laugh. "This is such a great party. I think I may have overdone it with the decorations, though."

She bites her lip all cutely as he looks around the back yard again. Everything is pink and purple. There are balloons, streamers around the trees. The picnic tables (nosy neighbours were willing to lend a couple for the day) and patio furniture are covered in pink and purple table cloths, and those brave enough are wearing pink and purple party hats with the number '1' on them.

Rachel bought him a douchey pink polo shirt, and he promptly returned it for a way less stupid looking plaid button down.

"Just a little," he laughs. She punches his arm. "It's a good party, Rach." She beams at him, wets her lips slightly, and he has to look away. He grabs a (pink and purple) plate and tosses a bun onto it. "Here's your veggie burger." He tosses the burger onto the bun and winks at her when she takes the plate from him, smiling. "Enjoy whatever the hell that thing's made of."

"I will, thank you," she says, bumping his hip with hers as she walks past, telling people the first wave of food is ready.

He's gone from tolerating her, to liking her, to actually wanting to be around her.

Totally fucked.

He intervenes again when his mom gets a little too close to Rachel, and she tries to tell him she's not about to criticize the party Rachel has planned, but if she was the one organizing things, she would have had more umbrellas and iced tea, because she'd really love an iced tea. Puck scoffs, shakes his head and smiles at his mom, tells her to eat her potato salad and keep her opinions quiet before she gets herself kicked out. He laughs when he sees Hannah playing with Violet on the grass, and he can tell she has no idea what to do with a baby. She's him, a few months ago.

Mr. Fabray comes up to him and they actually have a decent conversation. It's small talk mostly, but that's more than they've ever done before, and Puck is starting to think maybe this dude doesn't hate him or think he's a shitty caregiver or anything, so that's pretty sweet.

They bring out the cake (Rachel made it, and she wouldn't even let him have just a little taste of the icing) and everyone sings happy birthday, and Rachel holds Violet and helps her blow out the little candle in the middle of the cake.

Honestly, the party is way more fun than he thought it'd be.

By the end of it he doesn't know who's more tired, him or Violet.

Everyone leaves, and he and Rachel get Violet put to bed, then walk back downstairs. They both laugh when they see what a mess their kitchen is. It's a disaster, really. They cleaned throughout the day, tidying up as they went, but it's still a mess.

"Tomorrow," Rachel says, shaking her head. "We'll deal with it tomorrow."

"Word," he says. She laughs and heads for the fridge, gasping when she looks inside. "What?"

"There's only one beer left," she tells him. He gapes at her (totally joking, but she doesn't pick up on it) and walks over. "Flip you for it?"

"Fuck that. I get half." He grabs a glass and pours until he's sure it's even, then hands it to her, keeping the bottle for himself. "I'm exhausted."

She wipes her upper lip after taking a sip of her drink. "Me too," she insists. She sets the glass on the counter, then lifts herself up so she's sitting on the granite. "Today was fun, though."

"Yeah," he says, even if he's totally distracted. Has her shirt been cut that low all day? How'd he not notice? She's got her hands on the edge of the counter on either side of her, kind of leaning forward. He's got a good view of her cleavage. "Better than I thought it'd be."

She sits back, grabs her glass and gestures to him with it. "See? You should just trust me."

He laughs and sips his beer as he watches her. "I do trust you," he says seriously. It's not a lie.

She smiles and crosses her legs at the ankle. "Good. I trust you, too."

They look at one another for a minute, and he's trying to figure out why she's just staring at him. He knows why he's staring. She's beautiful and in front of him and the house is quiet for the first time all day. He saw her without her clothes on (he is so never telling her that, no matter what happens) and that image has been in the forefront of his mind since.

So he walks a little closer, leans one hand on the counter beside her and holds his beer with the other (just so he doesn't touch her with it or something else he would consider stupid.) She smiles at him and her eyes are locked with his as she takes another drink. He knows she means to look sexy as fuck when she licks the corner of her lip. His hand moves closer to her thigh on the counter, and he doesn't know what he's doing, but he can't stop himself from doing it.

The sound of a baby crying can.

He bows his head. He loves that kid, but seriously, her timing sucks. He runs a hand over his head as he steps back. "I'll get her," he says.

"No, no," Rachel insists, hopping down off the counter. She puts her hand on his forearm and looks up at him. "I've got it."

As soon as she's out of the room, he tips his head back and curses under his breath. He's such a fucking moron, seriously. What the hell was he thinking?

No. What was _she_ thinking? She could have stopped that from happening, but she didn't. She was just going to let him kiss her and fuck everything up.

Totally her fault.

She doesn't come back downstairs after settling Violet down again. He's torn between thinking that was stupid of her, and knowing it was really, really smart.

... ... ...

Rachel can't decide the best way to go about things with Noah. He almost kissed her, and she almost let him, and that was just very, very stupid of both of them. But she has this sinking feeling that if she asks him about it, he'll just deny it (or grab her and kiss her, and she keeps having to remind herself that would be a bad thing). Or maybe if she confronts him about it, he'll agree that they were just caught in some moment after a really great day (after a string of really great days) and it didn't mean anything, it was just a reaction to their proximity.

So she's not going to say anything.

It would really help her if he'd wear a shirt more often.

She and Violet are sitting on the living room floor, colouring with crayons when Noah comes downstairs in the morning. He mumbles to her, saying she could have gotten him up earlier, and she shrugs her shoulder. She didn't for a couple reasons. One, she didn't necessarily want to see him shirtless in his bed (and she wonders why he even has sheets, because they're always around his waist and that can't really keep him warm, can it?) And two, she was a little too nervous to really see him at all. Besides, she does feel guilty sometimes that he's home with Violet every day, and he can use the break on the weekends so he can sleep in. Not to mention, she loves the time she gets to spend alone with Violet.

Anyway, he grabs a cup of coffee and lays down on the sofa, and Rachel can tell right away that he's not going to make mention of their near kiss or whatever that was. She's relieved. The last thing they need is for anything to be awkward, even temporarily. In one of the child-rearing books she read, she learned that children are very perceptive to that kind of thing. Their current situation works well. Violet is happy and the energy between the three of them is perfect. Rachel doesn't want anything to change that.

"Hey, so I was thinking I'd go out tonight," Noah says after a while.

She's thankful for her childhood acting classes, because she can very effectively convince him that it doesn't matter to her what he does.

"Okay," she says, smiling at him.

"Just since we had the whole party thing yesterday and whatever."

"Of course," Rachel insists. She reaches for a crayon before it rolls under the sofa. "That's understandable."

"Cool," he says. "So what's the deal for today?"

"No plans, really." She shrugs her shoulder, pulls the strap of her tank top back up when it falls down her arm. She doesn't dare look to see if he's noticed, if he's looking. "I'm still exhausted from yesterday, and the kitchen is still a disaster."

"Yeah, saw that," he says, sitting up. He runs a hand over his head. "I'll just grab a shower, then we can start cleaning up and stuff. Sound good?"

Rachel nods and he gets up, draining the last of his coffee before heading for the stairs again. She wonders if he's pretending not to think about their almost kiss as much as she's pretending not to think about it.

... ... ...

He calls his buddy and asks if he wants to go to that place on Collingwood with the martini specials on Sunday nights. Always hot women there, usually mid-20s and traveling in groups. Not a bad scene for a 'work night'.

See, he spent all day with Rachel, and he really hoped she'd nag him for something or get pissed at him for, like, popping balloons with a steak knife or whatever. She didn't. Even when they were hosing down the back deck, she didn't get pissed when he sprayed her on purpose. She just squealed and laughed and looked adorable, then told him to watch his back because she was going to get her revenge when he least expected it.

Nothing has changed since he almost kissed her. But he knows she's not going to bring it up, and that's a really good thing. He hates talking about his feelings and shit, so he'd probably just end up kissing her to distract her from talking, and kissing would lead to sex, and that'd probably mess everything up like crazy. At least when they're both pretending nothing happened between them, nothing gets fucked up.

It's a good plan, he's sure.

Also a good plan? Getting laid for the first time in nearly two months.

Hence, martini night at this place he hates. But whatever. He walks into the bar with his friend Matt and they see that their usual table open, the one that gives them the best view of the entire place. Sure enough, it's crawling with women. Matt talks about his job and how crazy things have been lately and apologizes for not being able to go to Violet's party. He hands Puck a tiny little card and says there's a hundred bucks in there for Violet's _'whatever the hell fund you have for the kid'_. Puck laughs and says thanks, tucks the card into his wallet so he doesn't lose it or something.

When he sees the familiar head of jet black hair, the familiar sway of slender hips, he smirks to himself and knows this night just got better.

"Dude," he says, elbowing Matt. "Look."

Matt laughs and sets his beer on the table. "Is that Santana?"

"Yup," Puck says, smirking. "And Brittany."

"Haven't seen them since...Fuck. I don't even know."

Puck watches the girls, knowing they had a fucked up relationship in high school. He also knows that no matter who Santana was with (male or female), if he hit on her, she was game. And he knows how long ago it was that he saw her. Less than a year. They (she) got a hotel room and they put that shit to good use.

He is so in, and she hasn't even seen him yet.

"Let's do it, man," Puck says, drinking back the last of his scotch. "Ex sex is so hot."

"I never dated Brittany," Matt reminds him. Puck stops, thinks about it. Oh yeah. That was Chang.

"Fuckin' whatever. You're gonna bang her tonight."

"Puck..."

"Shut it, Rutherford," Puck says as they walk towards the bar.

He calls Rachel from the bathroom, tells her he's staying at his friend's place because they've had a little more to drink than he thought, he only feels a little bad about the lie. He's had one drink and he's not staying with Matt at all.

But when he's laying in Santana's bed and she's sleeping, curled up on her side with a foot of space between them (she's the weirdest chick ever, he swears, and she hates _'cuddling and all that bullshit; spoon me and you lose a fucking arm, Puckerman'_) he wonders if Rachel got Violet to bed alright and if she remembered that Vi only likes to sleep with her white teddy bear now, not any of the other ones.

Of course she remembered. He reminds himself that she's there every night at bedtime just like he is.

Then he feels really fucking guilty for not being there tonight.

... ... ...

Santana is a total bitch in the morning. Well, all the time, but he really realizes it first thing when he's looking for his clothes (seriously, they were naked in her place before they even made it to her bedroom, apparently) and she's telling him she doesn't have to be at work for two hours, and what kind of man is he not to want her in the morning? He tells her to get over herself, and she throws a shoe at his head as he pulls on his jeans in her living room. She's still bitching at him in Spanish, and he walks over, kisses her forehead (he knows how much it'll piss her off) as she stands there naked, and tells her he'll see her when he sees her. (Which they both know will not be for a long, long time.)

Last night was a mistake. The biggest tell is how much he misses Violet. He knows she's got to be up by now, and Rachel's probably feeding her breakfast and stuff. He likes walking downstairs in the morning and seeing them at the table in the kitchen.

Also? He's trying to figure out what Rachel's thinking about him staying out all night. She was totally understanding last night when he talked to her, and even if he lied about where he was and what he was doing (fuck, that sounds bad) she really didn't seem to mind that he was leaving her alone with the baby. Still, it's a weird realization that he'd rather wake up in his own bed at 7:00 in the morning and feed a baby yogurt with blueberries (Vi's favourite) than stay out all night drinking and having sex with his ex girlfriend (or anyone, he thinks it's safe to assume).

When he walks into the house, he hears Rachel's laugh, then Violet's, and he's smiling already. Kicking off his shoes, he checks his appearance in the mirror just to be sure he's not a mess before he goes in to say good morning. Yeah, he's wearing the same clothes as last night, but he doesn't smell like smoke or alcohol or anything stupid like that (he showered at Santana's around 4:00 am when she was sleeping), so he figures he's okay.

Violet sees him before Rachel does, and she lights up, smiles for him and bats her hand on the tray of her high chair as he walks over. Rachel glances over her shoulder and smiles, says hello as he walks over and kisses the top of Violet's head. She asks him how Matt has been doing, so he mentions the boring stuff, like work and whatever else Matt found important enough to share in the first place, and when Rachel starts cleaning up Violet's breakfast, he gets up and tells her he'll take care of it.

"Hey," he says before she can leave the room. He's got the baby in his arms and he's about to head up and get her ready for the day. "Sorry about last night."

Rachel furrows her brow, smiles at him. "Why?" she asks. "I mean, you don't have to apologize. You called and came home in time for me to get to work."

"Yeah, but still. I left you here and..."

"Noah," she laughs, putting her hand on his arm, "I can handle an evening alone with her. Honestly, it was kind of nice."

He feels a little better, actually, but he still knows he'd rather be home than anywhere else.

Rachel walks up the stairs, looks over her shoulder when she hears Violet giggling, and sees Noah holding Violet over his shoulder (in that way that always, without fail, makes Rachel nervous).

It's true. She's not bothered by him going out and staying out. She really can handle an evening here or there alone with the baby. It was nice to have that time alone with Violet. She found, though, that it was strange to sleep in that house without knowing there was another person there. She's only done it once before, and she hardly slept that time. This was different. She found she almost missed Noah. There are those few hours after they put Violet down where they usually sit in the living room or clean up the house or what have you, and it was weird not to sit there with him and talk about nothing.

She is not naive enough to think he went out last night, had a couple drinks and crashed on his friend's couch. She's sure there were women around. She's sure there were women around him (she is very, very aware of how attractive he is). She also knows he's an incorrigible flirt and he can make a woman giggle like a 16 year old within two seconds of meeting him.

She assumes shenanigans took place.

She knows he'd make fun of her for even thinking the word 'shenanigans.'


	6. Chapter 6

He's just gotten Violet down for the night after she fell asleep on him on the couch. The days are getting longer, and when he doesn't see Rachel in the living room where he left her, he checks outside and sees her sitting on the steps of the back deck. She glances over her shoulder when she hears the door open behind her, smiles, then turns around again to look at the lawn sprawling out in front of them. He sits down next to her and leans back on his hands.

It's nice, sitting here in the quiet with her. His hip is near hers and he can almost feel the heat from her body. (It's scary how badly he wants to feel the heat from her body.) It's been two weeks since that nigh with Santana. Two weeks since he realized exactly how much he likes his 'new' life with Violet and, in turn, Rachel. It's fucked that he'd rather sit in complete silence on his back deck with a woman he's never so much as kissed than be out sleeping with anyone else.

He's probably growing up or something.

"Can I ask you something?" she says after a while, turning her head and resting her chin on her shoulder.

He nods and looks away, because she's seriously too adorable right now. She's wearing his favourite grey Indians tee shirt, because Violet decided it was fun to throw grape juice at dinner and Rachel was the target. She'd run to the laundry room to soak her top and change into something clean, and apparently the only clothes there were his.

Looks better on her anyway. She's rolled up the sleeves and tucked just the front part into her jeans. Her hair's down and she's barefoot. It's definitely a good look on her.

"Did you ever think about having kids?" she asks.

He laughs a little, smiles and glances at her again. "Yeah. I've done the old plus/minus test once or twice in my day."

"Noah," she says, shaking her head. She laughs when she sees the smile on his face. She finds it hilarious that his idea of thinking about children involves a pregnancy test and probably a woman he barely knows. That might be a harsh judgment. "I don't mean like that. I mean did you ever want kids?"

"I dunno," he says, shrugging his shoulder. "Kinda."

"Kinda?" she laughs.

He rolls his eyes and sits up, setting his elbows on his knees. "You know. I guess I figured I'd have one or two someday," he says. Even he notices his voice is a little more sincere. "But I was never really the relationship type, and having a kid without the relationship isn't exactly the dream." She laughs softly and he realizes what he's said. "I mean, this is different."

"Oh, it's definitely different," she admits. She looks down to her feet, wiggles her toes. He looks at her.

"What about you?"

She shrugs. "I've always wanted children. I thought...With Paul, things were..." She sighs and laughs softly at herself. This conversation should be easier to have. She and Paul haven't been together in nearly a year. "Well, I really thought we'd get married."

"Why didn't you?" he asks. It's cool, he thinks, how talking about this stuff, about anything with Rachel, doesn't freak him out at all.

"He didn't think we should," she answers evenly.

He was not expecting that.

"Huh."

"What?"

"I just...No. Nothing," he says, because telling her that he doesn't understand why someone wouldn't want to marry her seems like it's probably a bad idea.

She looks at him for a second, as though she's trying to figure out what he was going to say, then looks at her feet again, wraps her arms around her knees. "It just got to the point where I knew he was never going to marry me, and I couldn't see a point to that relationship if that wasn't where it was going."

He thinks about it for a minute. He knows Rachel is the marrying kind. She's the girl (woman, whatever) you take home to your mother. Well, maybe _he_ wouldn't, since his mom has a hate on for her or whatever, but he's not talking about himself right now. Rachel is totally the woman who gets a dude to settle down without, like, asking (or telling) him to change. He just does it because he wants to be good enough for her. Or whatever.

What the fuck is he doing thinking so hard?

"For the best, really," he says. He's grinning a little bit, and she looks over at him. "Dude dressed like a moron. No woman can date a guy who spends more on clothes than she does. 'S'not right." She laughs, and he really wants to touch her, but he's not going to. "Fuck that guy."

"Been there, done that," she says, then gasps and clamps her hand over her mouth as he tips his head back and laughs. "Oh my gosh!" He slings his arm around her shoulder. He can't help himself. "You're such a terrible influence!"

"I'm so fuckin' proud of you right now," he laughs. He squeezes her to him a little before letting go, and she covers her face with her hands.

They sit there for another few minutes, and she makes note of the sunset, how it's orange and pink. Puck says something about pollution and she hits his arm, tells him not to ruin it. He heads inside to grab some water, and she looks up at him all cute and smiley and asks him to bring her a popsicle. He ventures a guess and grabs a cherry one. Besides, he knows they make her lips look all pink and stuff. It's sexy. No one can tell him he can't appreciate that.

"We should put in a hot tub," he says as he sits down again.

She furrows her brow and licks her popsicle. (_Goddamn_.) "Where are we going to get a hot tub?"

He looks at her like she's nuts. "You forgetting what I did until just recently? I can do all the work. It'll hardly cost us anything, and we'll have a _hot tub_."

"Is it safe? With Violet?"

He smiles. She thinks like such a mom.

"Yeah. I'll put it right over there," he says, pointing to a patch of lawn away from where Violet plays. "And we can have a locking cover on it and everything. Hell, we can have walls around it if you want." She bites her lip, looks over to the bare grass. "You need me to go into what it adds to property value, or are you convinced?"

She thinks about it for a moment, doesn't even say anything when he bites off a chunk of her popsicle and winks at her. "It would be nice to have," she admits.

"Sweet. We're doing it."

So that's how, two weeks later, Rachel finds herself completely distracted as she tries to watch Violet and still steal glances at the shirtless man sweating in her backyard as he goes to work installing this hot tub. He invited his friends, so they're outside, too, but since the heavy lifting (or whatever; Rachel hasn't been paying _that_ much attention to the actual job itself) is done, they're basically just sitting on the deck with beers in their hands, talking to Noah as he does all the work.

Rachel likes Matt and Mike. She remembers them from the wedding and then the funeral, and they're nice, perfectly sweet men.

She wants them to leave so she can go outside and openly ogle Noah as he works.

She has a problem. (She's trying to remember the last time she had sex, and it's depressing her how far back she has to go.) It's not as though she's going to sleep with Noah. Absolutely not. But she can still look at him. She can still think of what his hands would feel like on her skin and the things he might say to a woman in bed, the sensations he might pull from her body.

No really, she has a _problem_.

Matt and Mike leave in the afternoon while Violet is taking her nap, so Rachel says goodbye when they step into the house to let her know they're taking off. After they're gone, Rachel takes a cold bottle of water outside and hands it to Noah as he wipes the sweat from his forehead onto his arm.

He knows she thinks she's being subtle, but she is so not. Earlier, when she and Violet were playing on the other side of the lawn, he caught her stealing looks. He can't really blame her. He's got his shirt off and he knows how good he looks. It's fucking hot out, and there's no way he could do all this work with his shirt on. That'd be torture.

"You okay?" he asks, smirking when he notices her cheeks are a little red.

"Fine!" she answers far too quickly. "I'm fine. Are you okay? It's so hot out."

"Yeah," he says after taking a long drink from the water bottle. "I just wanna get as much of this done as possible today."

He sets one foot on the bottom step while she stands on the second one. His knee brushes against her calf and she looks down. He smirks and reminds himself not to touch her, you know, with his hands. He can't do that.

Look, he can flirt with her. She can flirt with him. They're living together and they're doing this fucked up thing together, and there's no way he can share a house with a gorgeous woman and not flirt. It's just impossible. They both know that by now.

"You should come inside," she says. It comes out breathy and soft, and she hasn't moved her leg yet, so he's pretty sure she's totally turned on right now. He meets her eyes, raises his brow. "Just because it's so hot out."

"You sure that's why?" he asks.

Fuck. He so didn't mean for that to come out. It seems to snap her from her daze and she looks at him. She drops her jaw before shaking her head.

"You just don't stop, do you?"

They both seem to notice that there's most definitely a joke there about him going all night long (which he can, thank you very much), but he's not going to say it right now, even if he knows it would break this stupid tension they've created by him being sweaty and shirtless and her being hot and him wanting her sweaty and shirtless. But anyway, he just shrugs his shoulder instead. She laughs before shaking her head and turning around to walk into the house. As much as he really likes the way she looks as she walks away, part of him wishes she'd quit doing it.

A couple hours later, when he walks into the house, drenched in sweat and his skin a couple shades darker, Rachel is laying on the sofa. Her top is low cut enough that her tits are pushed together as she lays on her side, and her legs look fucking spectacular. She looks up at him and smiles. He's using the towel she left out for him to wipe the sweat from the back of his neck.

"You look so hot right now," she says. He starts laughing and she shakes her head. "I mean your temperature."

"Sure you do, Rach," he says, winking at her. "Where's that baby?"

Rachel rolls onto her back, and it's really, really fucking hard not to just lay on top of her. Sure, she'd freak out about all the sweat at first, but it wouldn't matter after a while, if you know what he's sayin'.

"She's in bed."

"Little early for that, isn't it?" he asks, brow furrowed.

"Yes, but she was tired and I want her to be rested tomorrow, since we're both home. I thought maybe we could do something," Rachel explains.

See, this is why she's so awesome. She thinks about these things and actually takes him into consideration, and it's not like anyone else has ever done that before. It's nice, having someone you know has your back.

She scrunches her nose and tells him he should take a shower. He drops his sweaty towel on her and laughs, heading up the stairs while she tells him how disgusting he is.

... ... ...

Rachel is less than impressed when Mrs. Puckerman shows up just before dinner one Tuesday evening. Rachel's cooking with Noah while Violet plays at her little table in the corner of the kitchen. He's finally agreed to let her make him her favourite vegetarian dish, and with minimal argument from him. He's even helping. It's nice, actually, being with him in the kitchen like this. And maybe he's only doing it to make sure she doesn't put anything he deems 'weird' into the casserole, but whatever the reason, she likes it.

She freezes when she answers the door and sees Mrs. Puckerman standing there with her bag over her arm and her sunglasses perched above her forehead.

"Hello," Rachel says, because she's nothing if not polite.

"Rachel."

The woman looks at Rachel for a moment, then Rachel pulls the door open and steps aside. "Come in."

It's not like she can just pretend no one's home now.

"Is my son here?" Mrs. Puckerman asks as she slips off her sensible heels and sets her bag on the bench in the foyer. "Actually, I'm surprised you're home."

Rachel bites her tongue. "I'm generally home before 6:00, and he's in the kitchen."

"Cooking?" Mrs. Puckerman heads for the kitchen and Rachel follows behind. She puts her hands in the pockets of her jeans to keep herself from reaching out and strangling this horrible woman.

"Actually, I've got a casserole in the oven."

Mrs. Puckerman looks over her shoulder doubtfully, but Rachel just looks straight ahead until they're in the kitchen. Noah looks just as shocked as Rachel is, and Mrs. Puckerman goes straight for the baby.

"Mom, what the hell are you doing here?" he asks, setting the last of the glasses on the table. He told Rachel he'd set the table while she answered the door.

"You watch your language," she scolds. Violet seems to want nothing to do with her, and Rachel tries very hard to hide the smug smile that's threatening to break on her lips. "Rachel, you shouldn't be letting him talk like that. Not around the baby."

Puck looks at Rachel, and despite the fact that her back is to his mom, he can tell Rachel's about two seconds away from throwing a punch. Well, maybe not, but he really doesn't want to take the chance. He runs his hand over the small of Rachel's back as he walks past her and towards his mom.

"Rachel doesn't tell me what to do," he says seriously. It's true. "What are you doing here? You can't just stop by like this. And right before dinner?"

"I was in the area."

He scoffs. He knows his mother. He also knows how far away she lives. There's no 'in the area'. She's totally just stopping in to be a pain in his ass. And Rachel's, actually, since those two hate one another. He doesn't want them to, and he doesn't know why his mom is such a raging bitch to Rachel, but he doesn't think Rachel's feelings are all that crazy. His mom's met her only three times and is nothing but critical when, if you ask him, Rachel's doing a kick as job at this kid thing. Just like he is.

"That's total bullsh..."

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Rachel asks, cutting Puck off. He looks at her like she's nuts. "I made plenty. Noah, could you set another place at the table, please?"

"That would be nice," Mrs. Puckerman says, and for a moment, Rachel thinks maybe they could get along in the future, if they gave it time. "What you're cooking smells...fine."

Rachel sees Noah glance at her, and she makes sure the look she gives him is a pointed one. She really does not understand Mrs. Puckerman's issue with her. She cannot fathom why someone would judge so harshly, especially in this situation. Violet isn't even any relation to her! Rachel doesn't understand why she's receiving unfair judgment from this woman. Sure, Noah has been thrown into this, but so has Rachel. It's not as though she's some woman he impregnated out of wedlock and refused to marry him. They've both been asked to do this thing neither of them expected would ever happen. Mrs. Puckerman seems to have forgotten that Noah's life isn't the only one that's changed in the last few months.

Rachel would love nothing more than to defend herself. She's a lawyer; she defends people for a living. But somehow when there's no judge, no ruling at the end, she can't bring herself to stand up and state her case. It's silly, really.

Anyway, she just listens to Noah speak with his mother about how Violet is doing as he sets the baby in her high chair and gets her dinner prepared. Rachel puts the finishing touches on the side salad and pulls their dinner from the oven. She nearly bumps into (and burns) Noah in the process when he walks directly behind her as she's at the oven, and she sees Mrs. Puckerman's disapproving glance from across the room. Rachel says nothing.

Things go relatively well through dinner. They actually start looking up when Rachel insists she's keeping this house kosher, despite the fact that Violet isn't Jewish. Turns out Noah hadn't mentioned to his mother that Rachel is Jewish. It seems to earn her some points, so she talks about it a little bit more, but not enough to make herself seem desperate for approval. She's not. She just wants them to have a pleasant enough relationship, since they're going to be part of one anothers' lives for years to come.

Noah's phone rings while Rachel is making tea after dinner. Violet is happily sitting on his lap, and Mrs. Puckerman is talking about his sister's academic accomplishments before he takes the call. Rachel usually doesn't 'allow' phones at the table. It's a house rule, and they both agreed to and abide by it. But he announces that it's the dealership, and Rachel knows it's important because no one ever calls him outside normal business hours.

"There's a problem in the sales department. Nathan quit and he has a customer coming in to pick up a car, and it's this whole big...I gotta go down there," he says. Rachel stares at him, blinking a few times as if he may be able to tell that she's begging him not to leave her alone with his mother. "I'll be an hour, tops."

Rachel tries not to panic as he walks over and hands Violet to her, then kisses the baby's forehead. He does the same thing with his mother, telling her he'll call her later. As he heads out of the kitchen, she knows she has to at least try to make him stay.

"Would you excuse me for a moment? I'm going to see him to the door." Rachel doesn't wait for a response before heading out into the foyer. "Noah."

"Rach, I can't help it. I gotta go fix this," he says helplessly.

"That woman hates me!" she whispers harshly. "You _cannot_ leave me here with her!"

He laughs a little, and she definitely doesn't appreciate that. "Look, she probably won't stay long. Just fu...Just keep her company or whatever." Rachel glowers. "And try not to kill her or anything."

"Noah, please, I'm..."

"You'll be fine," he promises.

She's about to tell him she doesn't believe him when he curves his hand gently around the side of her neck, leans over and kisses her forehead.

He's out the door, then, and she's too stunned by what just happened to move for a moment. They've never, ever done anything like that. Their silly flirtation, yes, but it's never crossed the line into that kind of physical contact. His lips have never been on her person, nor vice versa.

She's still in a bit of a daze when she hears the kettle start to whistle, and she heads back to the kitchen. She walks over, a smile on her face, and hands the baby to Mrs. Puckerman before going back to fix the tea.

"So this is a typical evening?" Mrs. Puckerman asks as Rachel carries two mugs to the table.

"No," Rachel laughs. "Not at all." Mrs. Puckerman just raises her brow. "Usually once I'm home from work we're in for the night."

"Is that so." It's a statement, more than a question, and Rachel honestly wonders what she has to do to earn this woman's respect.

"Yes, unless we all go somewhere together. Sometimes we go out to dinner if neither one of us feels like cooking."

The woman purses her lips, avoids eye contact. "Hmm."

Rachel sighs and sets her mug down on the table with a little more force than can be considered necessary. She should not do what she's about to do, but frankly, she's done just sitting here and taking this kind of treatment when there's no reason in the world for this woman to be such a...a..._bitch_.

"Have I done something to upset you?" Rachel asks, now that she's got the woman's attention. "I'm sorry, but all you've done since the second you met me is criticize the way I live my life and care for this child, and to be honest, it's completely unfair." She picks up Violet, who is giggling, for some reason, and starts to pace a little bit as Mrs. Puckerman sits on the other side of the table. Rachel's choosing not to read the expression on the woman's face. "I'm doing my best here, just like Noah is, and if I'm being honest, our best is very, very good. Maybe you don't think either of us is capable of raising this child, but we are, and really, I_ don't_ need your approval. Violet's _grandparents_ are more than happy with the way we've chosen to care for her, and frankly, their opinion means much, much more to me than yours does."

"Now, that's..."

"That's the truth, and I'm tired of pretending it isn't. Maybe I'm acting inappropriately, but I'm no more out of line than you are with your snap judgments of me. Now, I have no problem with you seeing Violet, but if you want to continue to come to this house, I'm going to ask you to kindly stop all this, or you can...you can..._in drerd arayn_!"

And then, because she's completely embarrassed and a little ashamed, she walks from the kitchen and heads for the stairs. She's in her room for ten minutes before she hears the front door open and close, and when she dares to peer out her window, she sees Mrs. Puckerman getting into her car and driving away. She _should not_ have said all that. It's true, and she meant every word, but she shouldn't have said it. And she's certainly a better hostess than that as well, leaving her guest to fend for herself. But she supposes everyone has their breaking point.

It's funny, she thinks, that she can sit in a court room with tempers flaring all around her and not break from her calm demeanor once. As soon as it's about her, though, she's losing her cool and launching into a monologue she knows she would have been made fun of for.

She smiles to herself, though, because she knows without a doubt that Quinn would have loved to have seen that.

... ... ...

Puck's just barely pulling up to the dealership when his cell rings in his pocket. Rolling his eyes (hardly anyone ever calls the thing anymore) he checks the call display and sees that it's his mother.

He has a very, very bad feeling about this.

"Tell me you didn't do something stupid," he says as soon as he answers.

"She cursed at me, Noah," she says proudly, almost giddy. "She _cursed_ at me. In _Yiddish_!"

He smiles to himself as he walks through the door to the show room. "And what'd you do to make her do that?" he asks. That's really what he cares about.

"Nothing," she says, and he doesn't buy it for a second. "She has gumption."

He laughs out loud, shakes his head. "Yeah, ma, I know." This whole thing is weird. He swears and he gets reprimanded, hit on the back of the head. Rachel swears at the woman and gets praised. "What the hell happened?"

"Nothing. Nothing," she insists. "I just may have been wrong about her."

"I coulda told you that," he says seriously. "But...whatever. Look, I gotta go."

"Yes, yes. You do your work. I'll talk to you later, Noah."

He has no fucking clue what could have happened in the 15 minutes since he left the house, and he can't stop going through scenarios in his head.

... ... ...

Rachel bathes Violet and gets the girl put to bed, then she realizes her hands are still shaking when she hears the front door open and close.

She's sure he's going to be upset with her for yelling at his mother. Who wouldn't be? She also knows he's closer with his mother than he'd like anyone to assume. She thinks it's a safe bet that Mrs. Puckerman has already called him and told him every word Rachel said, so she knows she's in for another argument.

She hates fighting with him.

Oh, god. Now she's crying. Just a little bit, but still. She's sitting on the sofa with her knees pulled up to her chin, a glass of wine untouched on the coffee table in front of her, and there are tears in her eyes. She hears him kick off his shoes and braces herself for whatever he's going to say to her. She assumes it won't be good.

But he just walks into the room and sits down next to her, his arm draped over the back of the sofa so it's sort of lazily around her. He's smirking and his eyes are on the television. She knows he knows. She cannot understand what he's doing.

"Whatever you said to mom? She thinks you're awesome now," he says after a few moments. (Too many, if you ask her.)

"What?" she breathes out.

He looks over at her, rolls his eyes when he sees that she's crying. "Says you've got gumption." She laughs tearfully and surprises both of them when she leans over and presses her face against his chest. "So whatever happened, I guess it was a good thing."

"I completely flew off the handle," she tells him, shaking her head as she wipes her face. He chuckles a little, lets his hand slide up and down her arm a couple times. "I yelled. I told her I don't care what she thinks of me, and I...I may have told her to go to hell."

"May have?" he laughs. He looks down at her, and fuck, she's adorable, sitting there against him, all worried and biting her lip. "I think that impressed her most."

"I'm sorry. I have no idea what came over me."

"Don't worry about it. 'S'cool." He points to the television, the teen drama she's watching for some reason. "Who's this douche?"

She laughs, but doesn't move from where she's sitting, pressed against him and unsure of what to do with her hand other than to rest it on his thigh. She puts it on her own, but her elbow touches his.

She doesn't know when she falls asleep, but he shakes her awake gently close to midnight with a sleepy smile on his face, and she heads to her bedroom while he locks up.


	7. Chapter 7

Rachel gets to her office early one morning and pulls the framed photo from her purse. It's of she, Noah and Violet, the three of them smiling at the camera together. Violet is perched on Noah's arm, and Rachel has her hand on the baby, her other arm around Noah. It's from Violet's birthday party, and Judy just sent it to her the other day. She had a few printed off, since she quite likes the photo and realized she didn't have any of the three of them anywhere; not at home or her office. Now, on the table in the den at home, there is a photo of the three of them amid photos of Finn, Quinn and Violet. She still doesn't know if it's strange that she and Noah haven't moved those other photos yet. She'd ask someone, but she's not sure she wants to know the answer either way.

This is the only photo she has in her office. She's got diplomas and degrees on the wall, but she likes to keep personal effects out of her office. She learned in the beginning that it was difficult to be taken seriously as a petite, attractive woman. Maybe that was all in her head (Quinn always insisted it was) but she wanted to prove she could 'play with the big boys', as the saying goes. Anyway, now that she's completely in love with this child and definitely respects and cares about Noah, she didn't think twice about buying a nice frame to match her office decor and bringing this photo in to sit on her desk as she works.

And she swears she's only a little jealous that just this past weekend, Violet started calling Noah, 'No.'

At first, they had no idea what she was talking about, thought she'd just learned the word no and was saying it over and over again simply because she knew how. That was what happened when she learned 'juice'. She didn't _want_ juice, she just liked saying the word. But then when she started screeching 'No' and reaching for Noah, he put two and two together, smirked smugly, and picked Violet up. And one might assume that he'd be gracious about his name being the first Violet learned, be sensitive because Rachel was right there, but no, he definitely rubbed it in a little bit, playfully. Then he'd hugged her and told her it wasn't a big deal, and Violet would probably start saying 'Rachel' soon enough. Strangely, that made her feel better, even after a half an hour of him saying things along the lines of _'Vi just loves me more.'_

Her assistant/friend brings her another coffee, this one from her favourite coffee shop, and Rachel holds it between her hands like it's gold or something. Say what you want about how wonderful raising a child is (and it is, really) but when Violet wakes up unexpectedly in the middle of the night and is up for a half hour, it takes a lot out of a person. And she's due in court this afternoon, so she wanted to get in early to go over her case, and she's operating on less sleep than she'd like. An Americano is basically heaven in a cup right now.

"What's this?" Julie asks, picking up the photo. Rachel can't help but smile.

"It's from Violet's birthday," Rachel explains.

Julie raises her brow, tilts her head and clicks her tongue. "I swear, that man..."

"What?" Rachel asks cluelessly. (She's faking it. She has eyes, too. She knows every woman who's ever looked at him has thought the same thing they're both thinking right now.)

"Oh, shut up," Julie says, setting the photo back down on the desk. "You know that if the situation was any different, you'd have stripped down for him by now."

Rachel nearly chokes on her coffee, covers her mouth with her hand and shoots Julie a look. "You'll remember I went out with him before all this, and he was such a spectacular jackass that I barely made it through the evening."

Julie rolls her eyes. "That was before he went all Mr. Mom on you and started being so adorable. I don't know how you haven't slept with him yet."

"If you insist on having this conversation, would you at least close the door?" Rachel hisses. There's hardly anyone in the office, but this is clearly not the kind of discussion she needs anyone overhearing. Julie closes the door, then sits across from Rachel's desk. "I'm not going to jeopardize the relationship he and I have by sleeping with him just because he's attractive. That would be completely irresponsible. And stupid."

"Except he looks like he knows his way around a woman's body and you haven't been with anyone since Paul," Julie says matter-of-factly.

"My sex life hasn't exactly been a priority."

"It should be," Julie insists. It's Rachel's turn to roll her eyes. "Look, if anyone knows how hard this has been on you, it's me. I'm just saying that now that things have settled down a little bit, there's no reason you can't start dating again."

Rachel thinks about this for a moment. Julie is probably right. Rachel has one night a week when she can go out without question, and she rarely, if ever, uses it. There was one time when she went out to dinner with her fathers, and another time she and the girls went for margaritas and Mexican food. On both occasions, she was home by 10:00. She could very well go on a date, or at least go out with Julie or another of her single friends and attempt to meet someone.

It's not as if she owes anything to Noah, other than to put as much effort as possible into doing what's best for Violet. She knows that no matter what, she's not about to do anything to the detriment of that child.

So why does she still feel like she doesn't want to do anything without talking with Noah first? Sure, they're doing this together, but she doesn't need to give him details about her sex life, and there's certainly no reason for him to have an opinion on it. Yes, they flirt, and lately they've been a little more touchy feely with one another, but it's all in an appropriate way, like friends would do. They're friends. Nothing more.

"I don't know," she says quietly. "With Noah..."

"Okay, are you having sex with him?" Julie asks needlessly, Rachel tilts her head, shoots a look across her desk. "You aren't. Do you think he's being celibate?"

Rachel laughs. "I'm certain he hasn't been," she admits, even though her heart twists just a little bit when she says it.

"So don't think twice about doing it, too," Julie says, shrugging her shoulder. "And I know you've had lunch with Lucas two weeks in a row. I keep your schedule, remember?"

Julie's grin is wicked and knowing, and Rachel shuffles files on her desk. "Lucas is a friend from law school. We were trading war stories."

"A friend from law school you admitted to having once had a crush on," Julie says, brow cocked as she stands. "And he's cute, and he's set up both lunches."

Rachel thinks about it for a moment, wonders if Julie is right and she's unknowingly (she's a little clueless with this kind of thing sometimes) been on dates with Lucas recently. It's strange, since they've always kept in touch rather casually, and he called her out of the blue one day to ask her to lunch. Yes, she had a crush on him when she was single and in law school and he had a much older girlfriend who Rachel (and everyone else) knew wasn't right for him. He's working in corporate law just a few blocks from her office, and she didn't hesitate to agree to lunch with him. It never crossed her mind that he could have feelings for her. Again, her mind has been elsewhere.

She doesn't know when Julie left the office, but she's sitting alone now, wondering if everything her friend said is true.

... ... ...

It's really fucking distracting to try and mow a lawn when there's a gorgeous woman in a bikini sitting in the hot tub with a margarita in her hand.

He's trying not to stare. He really is. It's just that he can see her singing along with the iPod she has plugged into one ear (only one, so she can hear the baby monitor if she has to). She's got her arms resting on the side of the tub, her eyes closed. He can't hear what she's singing over the sound of the lawn mower, but he fucking wants to. God. Her tits look fucking spectacular, half in the water in her dark purple bikini, and really, he should win a fucking Olympic medal for not running the riding mower into a goddamn tree.

Why couldn't Quinn's best friend have been some fugly chick you couldn't pay him to fuck? No, no. Scratch that. Why couldn't Rachel have really been the raging bitch he'd thought she was in the beginning? Why'd she have to get all cool and sweet and adorable and fucking awesome? At least if she'd been a bitch he could have told himself she was a bitch and to stay away from her.

But no. She _has_ to be fucking gorgeous, and she _has_ to have a body that's so perfect it hurts him. (Seriously, it _hurts him_.) She has to be awesome at this pseudo-parenting thing, and she has to send him these little looks across the lawn. If you ask him, she's practically begging him to strip down and join her and maybe pull her into his lap and kiss her until she's pleading with him to fuck her senseless.

The only (and he means _only_) saving grace is that he's wearing board shorts, so when he's done, if he's done before she goes into the house, he can just climb into the hot tub with her and they can hang out a bit and maybe he can sneak a few sips of her margarita or something.

God, she probably tastes like tequila and lime right now.

He needs to stop thinking about this shit, seriously.

It really, really sucks when, just as he's got about 10 minutes of lawn left to mow, she gets up (holy shit, her body is unreal) and wraps a towel around herself, looks over and holds up the baby monitor. God, he loves that kid, but she really does have the worst timing ever. Even if he's not going to fuck Rachel (and really, he's not so sure he won't at this point) he would have loved to just sit there knowing she was half naked and wet at least in one way. Goddamn.

When he gets into the house she's in the kitchen rinsing out the blender. She's got her pajamas on now, whatever good that does. She's just in a pair of little red cotton shorts and a black tank top that doesn't leave a hell of a lot to the imagination. He's not about to complain about that. There are two margaritas on the counter, and he smiles at her as he wipes his forehead on his sleeve. He quickly runs some cold water from the kitchen tap, splashes some onto his face and she tells him she'll be in the living room. He turns his head just in time to see her (well, her ass is really all he's looking at) disappear into the hall.

When he joins her, she's got her legs up on the sofa, crossed indian-style as she watches television.

"Rent is on," she tells him, and she seems way too excited about it if you ask him.

"Cool," he says. Whatever. She watches enough sports with him, he doesn't complain much when she finds stuff she wants to watch.

And it's fucking adorable, too, how she knows every word, every lyric. She sings along, and he finds he watches her, listens to her more than the television. They both laugh when she quotes that hot lesbian chick about there being women in rubber hitting on her or whatever. As far as musicals go, this one isn't really all that bad.

"This part's really sad," she tells him softly, leaning her head on his shoulder during a quiet part of the movie.

He just lets his arm fall around her shoulder, lets her finish the last of his margarita and tries not to make fun of her too much when she starts crying.

She sings the closing number, and he'd worry about her waking up the baby, but it'd be a small price to pay. Rachel is talented and beautiful and so fucking amazing it's not even fair.

No seriously. It's not fair. He wishes he'd realized it earlier so he could have done something about it.

This is so like Finn, too. Douchebag probably knew how awesome Rachel was and set this whole thing up just to fuck with Puck. He's probably sitting somewhere right now, laughing his ass off because Puck's found the hottest woman ever and he can't just give in and fuck her.

Fucking Finn.

(But he's still smiling as he lays down in bed and goes over all this in his head, because Finn always was a better judge of character, even if Puck hated to admit it at the time.)

... ... ...

Noah goes out another night with Mike and Matt, and Rachel knows they don't just hang out at Mike's apartment and watch sports. She's not naive. She laughs and says as much to Noah, and he smirks a little and shrugs his shoulder, neither confirming nor denying that they're all going out to look at (and/or pick up) women. She simply tells him to let her know if he's going to be staying out all night, or coming home.

He comes home. It's late, but he comes home. She hears him come in, knows he's had a bit too much to drink. Matt drove, for which Rachel is thankful. She knows Noah wouldn't drink and drive, but still, it's a relief to know he wouldn't do something stupid and chance it.

It doesn't bother her that it's nearly 1:30 when he comes in. It's none of her business what he does when he's out, or who he does it with.

But still, her heart twists when she's doing laundry the next day and his button down shirt from the night before smells vaguely of a perfume she doesn't recognize.

She doesn't want to think her accepting another lunch 'date' with Lucas has anything to do with that. He just happens to call and ask if she's free, and she is. And it's easy with him, pleasant, and they have a lot to talk about. They've known one another for years, and they're in the same field. And it's nice to just be normal with him. He knows her situation, of course, but he doesn't talk about Violet non-stop and ask all sorts of questions. He's interested, of course, and he asks how things at home have been going, but he doesn't dwell on it. He knew her before the baby, and she appreciates that he doesn't see her as two completely separate people; pre-Violet Rachel, and post-Violet Rachel. She's still the same person, there just happens to be a child in her care now.

Anyway, a couple days after that lunch, he asks if she'd want to meet for drinks after work. She decides that she would. It's not 'her night' away from the house, but she's hardly used hers anyway, so she doesn't think Noah will mind at all, so long as she lets him know.

The lie slips easily past her lips when she leaves it on the voicemail.

She really doesn't expect to sleep with Lucas. She really, really doesn't. It's just that he calls her beautiful, confesses that he's always had feelings for her, says he only got in touch with her because he was hoping she was single. He kisses her first, and she doesn't stop him, doesn't want to, and she's never had to use the term 'one thing lead to another' until now.

... ... ...

He had to go to the dealership in the afternoon, took Violet with him, of course. She definitely didn't mind hanging out with Cassie, the receptionist, while Puck signed papers and had a quick meeting with the head of sales. Violet then toddled into his office and insisted she sit on his lap while he went through a few reports and gave Burt a quick call to give him an update.

He gets home and it's nearly 4:00. Violet missed most of her afternoon nap and slept just a little bit at the dealership, then again in the car. He's pretty sure he's going to regret that later, but whatever. They'll survive. Won't be the first time.

He's surprised, when he comes into the house, to see the light flashing on the phone telling him there's a voicemail. No one ever leaves voicemail at the house. That's what cell phones are for. He figures it's a tele-marketer or something stupid like that and debates not even checking it, but then he realizes it could very well be something important, so he gives it a listen. Besides, Rachel would kick his ass if he just ignored that shit and it ended up being urgent or whatever.

He's a little surprised that it's her, not only because she rarely calls during the day (she's a busy girl) but because he can't for the life of him figure out why she wouldn't call his cell if she couldn't get him at home.

"Noah? I'm going to be working late this evening. Surely, you can take care of dinner for yourself. I'm not sure when I'll be home. I'll call if it's anything after midnight."

He hangs up the phone and carries Violet into the kitchen so he can start on dinner for her. He figures he'll wait to eat until after he's put her down for the night.

No big. Rachel's working late. She doesn't have to do it often, and as much as he'd love to just chill for the rest of the night while she does all the stuff she normally does (she's always on bath duty and gets Vi ready for bed, upon her insistence, not his) he knows he can handle all that. They've got this stupid 'one night out each' thing and she hardly ever actually goes out. Work totally doesn't count, but whatever. Not like he's mad at her either way.

Halfway through making Violet this awesome baby pasta salad thing he found online (shut up; even he was getting bored of the stuff Violet was eating) he realizes he's talking to her. Not weird. What's weird is that he's talking to her about Rachel. Actually, he realizes it's kind of a rant. About Rachel and this whole working late thing.

See, he understands her job is demanding or whatever. She's a lawyer, and that's pretty important. And he even respects it a lot more now that he knows that she generally tries to make sure people have gotten counseling and all that crap before they've resorted to divorce. And that she's a total shark with regards to assholes who leave their wives or cheat.

But really, does she need to stay and work after hours on a Thursday night? He doesn't know about, you know, prepping for court or any of that shit, but he's pretty sure they play that shit up on television and in movies and maybe it doesn't really happen so much in real life. And especially not with divorce lawyers. 'Cause, really, who cares which person gets the house and shit? And how much of an argument can a lawyer really make against...

Anyway, this is the stuff he's saying to Violet, only without the swears.

The biggest, most glaring issue he has is that Rachel has never had to work _this_ late before.

He realizes that one around 9:00, after he's put Violet to bed and is trying to focus his attention on some shitty sitcom that should have been canceled at least four seasons ago.

He's moved onto wondering why the fuck he cares so much (and is this what she felt that night back in the beginning when he didn't come home) when he hears the lock turn on the front door. It's 12:47 am. She said she'd call if she was going to be later than midnight. Don't think he hasn't been sitting here thinking about that, too.

"Hi," she says quietly when she sees him sitting on the sofa. He nods at her, watches as she sets down her briefcase and kicks off her shoes. "You're still up."

"Yup."

"Did you..." He looks over at her for the first time and wishes he hadn't. She's a mess, just like he was really, really hoping she wouldn't be. "Did you wait up?"

"You said you'd call," he says.

"I'm sorry. I...I lost track of time," she says, and he knows she knows how lame it is, because she walks into the kitchen without another word.

He follows her, watches as she pulls a bottle of water from the fridge. Her skirt isn't quite straight, and her hair is in a ponytail, which she only ever wears on evenings at home or weekends. She's not wearing pantyhose, and she always wears those.

He can handle a lot of bullshit, and he can handle a lot of bullshit from women.

One thing he really hates, no matter who he's dealing with, is being lied to. It just makes him feel like people think he's an absolute moron, and he doesn't fucking appreciate it.

When she turns around again and sees him there, she jumps, closes her eyes and puts her hand over her heart. "You startled me," she breathes out.

He does not tell her he's been sitting here getting more and more worried as the minutes ticked past, that he was too bitter and proud (and scared, a little) to try her cell to make sure she was still alive.

"So, were you working late, or were you 'working late'?" he asks, using air quotes when necessary to get his point across.

She narrows her eyes and tilts her head. She notices how close he's standing to her. It bothers her, but she doesn't move.

"I...I had a meeting."

He scoffs, smirks and shakes his head. "A meeting? Really."

She screws the cap back onto her water bottle and sets it on the counter. "I met an old friend for a drink. That's all."

"Your shirt's buttoned wrong," he says. He reaches out for the button between her tits that's not done up, leaving the fabric to gape. His hand grazes her chest and she looks up at him through her eyelashes before pushing his hand away. "That's some friend, Rach."

"I don't owe you any explanation," she says, and she almost sounds convinced.

He crosses his arms. "So d'you go back to his place? Maybe at the bar. You don't really strike me as the type, though, so..."

"Stop speaking to me like that," she says sharply, taking another step away from him.

She doesn't know where he gets off acting like this. At least she came home. At least she'd called to let him know she'd be late and not to worry. And yes, she was a little later than she'd expected, but she was otherwise indisposed and couldn't exactly stop and make a phone call.

And if she didn't know any better, she'd think Noah is jealous. That's certainly how he's acting. Then again, he's prone to acting upon his emotions at inopportune times. She's never put much thought into it before, and she doesn't necessarily want to start now.

"Or maybe you did it right there in your office." He watches as her eyes darken.

"Stop it."

"That's it, huh? D'you just lay back on your desk, or move it to the sofa. How would that work?" he asks.

He knows he's going beyond his normal 'torture' of her. He loves to get a rise out of her. This is different. He's almost being cruel. He doesn't feel bad about it at all.

When her hand comes up and she tries to slap him in the face, he moves out of the way before she can actually hit him.

She's infuriated. She doesn't think she's been so angry or disgusted with him in all the time she's known him.

"I thought we were over you blatantly disrespecting me," she says, laughing bitterly as she shakes her head. "And if I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound jealous."

She has no idea why she said that. No idea. She shouldn't have. She watches him set his jaw, put his hand on his hip and shake his head. He can't believe she said it either, apparently.

See, the problem is she just hit the nail on the head, and they're both supposed to be ignoring this tension or chemistry or whatever the fuck you want to call it between them. They're attracted to one another; she can't even lie and say that's not the truth. If this is her way of trying to move on, then fuck. Whatever. He can't really say too much about it.

He doesn't think that's what it is, though. If you ask him, this is her trying to get back at him for the other night, and maybe a couple other nights before that. Even if he's wrong, she's not going to be able to convince him of it.

"As if you weren't jealous the other night."

She meets his eyes and tries not to glare too hard. "Did you give me anything to be jealous of?" she asks evenly. (She wants him to say no, and that's stupid and unfair, but it's the truth.)

Fuck. It's not like he went out and picked up the first woman he saw who was attractive, fucked her in the bathroom of the bar and came home. It wasn't like that. He actually called up a girl he used to know, met her at her place, enjoyed (kind of) a quickie, and came home.

He really hates it when Rachel is right, which sucks, 'cause she's right all the damn time.

He is jealous. He's totally jealous. He doesn't want anyone touching her if he can't. The thought of someone else fucking her makes him see red. Someone else kissing her, her saying someone else's name. He's never even had her, but he doesn't want to let her go.

"This is ridiculous, Rach. What the fuck are we doing?" he asks.

She wonders how he even has the nerve to ask. She knows he's not stupid, but she thinks he's acting like it right now.

"We're living our lives," she answers, throwing her hands in the air. "It's not fair of you to go out and be with...with whoever, and yet when I have a date..."

He scoffs and shakes his head. "Thought it was a meeting."

She rolls her eyes at him. "Fine! It was a date."

He walks towards her and she backs up, but she bumps into the counter and looks right at him when he's standing in front of her. He crosses his arms, and she's thankful, because she really doesn't want him to touch her right now, not even a little bit.

"Who was he?" he asks. He doesn't know why it's so important, but it is.

"None of your business," she says seriously. She won't arch her back, won't move when he leans forward a little bit.

"Tell me," he says.

"No." She sets her jaw. He's really making her angry now. "Are you going to give me a list of all the women you've been with since we moved in here?"

He smirks. She thinks she's fucking clever. "It'd be a short list."

Her eyes meet his again and she quirks her brow. "Longer than my list of one."

Until right now, he could tell himself she hadn't actually had sex. It wasn't confirmed, and he lies to himself well enough to know he could have convinced himself she just had drinks and came home. Her admitting it makes him grind his teeth and dig his nails into his palms.

"Whatever," he mumbles. "This is bullshit." He knows that if he stays here in this kitchen and talks about this any longer, he's going to do something stupid, like say a bunch of really awful shit he doesn't even mean, or kiss her and tell her he's going to show her how much better in bed he is than the douchebag she just let bend her over her desk or whatever. "I'm done."

"You're...you're _done_?" she sputters. "What does that mean?"

"Means I'm not gonna stand here and keep arguing with you about this shit. It's fucking late, and I'm tired. Sure you are, too," he says lecherously. She glares, but he doesn't give a fuck, just takes a step away from her. "By the way, Vi was asking for you earlier. Said your name and everything. Too bad you weren't here to hear it."

He walks out of the kitchen and hears her gasp, but he keeps heading for the stairs, because this whole night has been completely fucked, and if he goes back in there right now it's just going to get worse.

... ... ...

She barely says two words to him in the morning. She can hardly stand to look at him. She gets Violet out of bed and feeds her breakfast as usual, because as mad as she is (disgusted, really) she won't change Violet's routine. It wouldn't be fair.

And she nearly cries when Violet won't say Rachel's name again, but she hides it well and makes sure she's composed when Noah comes down the stairs. He says good morning and heads for the coffee maker, but Rachel won't greet him. She's not going to pretend everything is fine when it very obviously isn't. They've got a problem, a big problem, and if she thought it was silly and stupid and they could sweep it under the rug, she would do that very thing. But apparently this flirtation, this 'friendship' they'd developed was a little more than just that.

She hates that she thinks she's going to miss it.

But as soon as he's sitting at the table, she gets up and straightens out her top.

"I'll bring something home for dinner," she says as she pours coffee into her travel mug.

"Fine."

She wonders if he knows she's bringing food home because cooking dinner has become the thing they do most often together. They work so well together in the kitchen, and to be honest, she just can't be around him right now. She doesn't want to have to put together a meal with him and not talk like they usually do.

She doesn't wait for him to say anything else before she kisses the top of Violet's head and says goodbye to the girl. Then she leaves, sits in her car for a minute and ignores that stupid voice in her head that's telling her she's overreacting. She's not. She can't be.


	8. Chapter 8

Puck knows she's dodging him. He's pissed about it, yeah, but he also knows it's probably a good thing, because he's still honestly mad about the night before and he doesn't trust himself not to pick that fight up right where they left off. He doesn't want to fight with her about it anymore. He doesn't want to think about her with whatever dude she was with. She shouldn't be with anyone else. She can't be with him, and he knows that, but fuck.

He doesn't know what the hell he was thinking, talking to her like that and calling her out on having sex with someone. It's not like he's been some kind of angel. He really hasn't. He hasn't done anything to put her of Violet in jeopardy, and he has to remind himself that aside from her not calling to let him know she'd be late, she didn't do anything wrong. She didn't do anything different than he did.

He should not be so interested in who she has sex with, even if he really wants to have sex with her himself. He can't, and he's known that since, well, since Finn and Quinn died. That doesn't mean it sucks any less, especially now that he knows how awesome she is. The whole fucking problem is that he actually _likes_ her and stuff. He doesn't _like_ women. He's attracted to them, and he sleeps with them, and that's pretty much where the relationship ends, even if it happens more than once. He doesn't do dates, and he sure as hell isn't happy with just sitting on the couch and hanging out, watching television. He definitely doesn't need them to genuinely like him back as much as he likes them. That just doesn't happen.

He is not okay with this.

Violet whines as she walks slowly down the sidewalk in front of him, so he leans over and hoists her up into his arms.

Everything would be so much easier if they were still like they were in the beginning. He wishes he could just tolerate one another and nothing more. He fucking hates her for making him like her.

"Rachel."

He looks at the girl in his arms. She's tired, he can tell. It's creeping up on her nap time, and they've been doing stuff all morning. And fuck, he loves when she does this, lays her head on his shoulder and plays with his tee shirt with her little hand and stuff.

She's asking for Rachel. He can't really blame her. She's hardly seen Rachel since two days ago.

That really, really pisses him off. He knows Rachel would never put anyone before Violet, ever. He's just pissed off in general right now.

"Rachel's not here, baby," he says, bringing his free hand up to rest on her back and hold her tighter. She lets out this little whine, and he swears that's all Quinn, that little sound. It makes him smile a little bit. "You sleepy?"

She doesn't say anything, but she balls her fist like she always does when she's really tired.

He takes a nap at the same time she does, because he's exhausted from the night before and from being mad and he figures if he's asleep, he can't really think about everything.

... ... ...

They're civil for Violet's sake. It's like the beginning, when they weren't exactly tiptoeing around one another, but they weren't exactly trying to be best friends or anything. Rachel still gets Violet up in the mornings, and she still comes home from work and helps with dinner and spends time with the baby. Sometimes Noah sits there with them when they're 'colouring'. Sometimes he sits on the sofa and watches television as she and Violet play on the floor.

Their conversations are centered around the baby and whatever goes into keeping the house running. He tells her he needs to go out and pick stuff up for some project he's doing in the garage (he doesn't give details and she doesn't ask). She reminds him to mow the lawn on Saturday when she's leaving with Violet in the morning to go to the Fabray's for the day. He hands her the phone when her dad calls and says he found some vegetarian recipe in a magazine and wanted to tell Rachel about it.

In the evenings, after Violet is in bed, she either goes outside and relaxes in the hot tub (only if he isn't), or goes to her bedroom and watches television there instead of with him. He catches her one evening, sitting in the dining room with work spread all around her. She's humming some song he doesn't recognize. He wants to sit across from her and talk to her, but he knows she knows he's there, and she's not acknowledging him. He's sure as hell not going to force any kind of interaction on her. If she wants to talk to him, she can talk to him.

Rachel goes for dinner one night with Lucas. She doesn't feel a thing. She spends the whole night wondering if Noah's wondering who she's with, what she's doing. She wonders if he's jealous. She hates that she wants him to be.

She hates that she can't just ask him, can't just talk to him about it.

She thanks Lucas for dinner, but when he asks her if she wants to go to his place for 'coffee', she says no.

She tells him she's very particular about her coffee, and that she doesn't think she'll like his. He looks confused. As it turns out, when you have to explain to someone that you're letting them down easy, it kind of defeats the purpose of attempting to let them down easy.

She gets home just before 9:00, and Violet is already in bed. Noah is laying on the couch watching a baseball game.

"Hi," she says quietly.

"Hey."

He doesn't even look at her. (Part of him just really doesn't want to see her makeup smudged and hair out of place like last time.) She wants to scream at him and tell him she ended things, and does that make him happy? Instead, she goes to the kitchen and gets a glass of water, then heads to her bedroom.

She really wishes she had a best friend to talk to right now.

... ... ...

Rachel sleeps in Saturday morning. She's been so tired lately, tired from work and this stupid tense living situation. It's exhausting. She misses how easy it was before, how comfortable.

She wishes he'd just apologize. She's still positive she's done nothing that warrants an apology for him from her.

She can hear him downstairs, laughing with Violet. She can hear Violet's little footsteps on the hardwood, her giggles coming up the stairs.

Then Rachel remembers what today is and that pretty much stops her from smiling at all. She wonders if Noah knew, and that's why he didn't get her up. She checks the time and sees that it's nearly 9:00. She doubts Noah has any clue what's going on, just felt he'd let her sleep in or something. Maybe he didn't want to wake her up because he likes not being around her now.

That really shouldn't be the thing that tips the scales and starts the tears, but it is.

She should be doing so much more today than just laying on her bed in her pajamas, but an hour and a half later that's still what she's doing.

The knock at her door isn't exactly unexpected. She hasn't stayed in bed this late in years. Noah probably wants to make sure she's still breathing. To be honest, there were moments where it was hard to even do that.

"I'm up," she calls through the door.

She misses the time when he'd just push it open after knocking and come in to talk to her.

It seems that missing things is the theme of the day.

"Are you alright?" he asks. She wonders if he can hear her crying. She's not exactly being quiet about it at the moment, and her sniffles are probably audible, even through the door. "Rach."

"I'm fine," she answers. She knows it's not convincing. When the door opens a few moments later, she gasps and pulls the sheets up against her as she leans back on her elbows. "What are you doing?"

He rolls his eyes. "Relax. I've seen you in less," he tells her. She realizes he's right, drops one hand so she can wipe her cheeks.

"Where's Violet?"

"Hangin' out in her crib for a few," he says, crossing his arm and taking another couple steps into the room. Honestly, Rachel hasn't been herself lately (it's his fault as much as it is hers, but he really doesn't know how to fix it without just telling her he wants her). When he heard her crying, he was worried, okay? "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing is _wrong_ with me," she snaps. She lays down again, turns onto her side. He lets out a huff. "I don't need a babysitter."

"What the fuck?" he asks. "Seriously. What's your deal?"

She sits up, lets the sheet fall away this time. She's wearing a satin nightgown she's never, ever worn around him. It's hot out and this is the coolest thing she owns to sleep in. She notices his eyes rake over her body quickly. It makes her angry. If he won't speak to her, he shouldn't be able to stare at her like that, either. It's not fair.

"You don't even know what today is," she says bitterly. She runs a hand through her hair when he holds his arms out, as if to ask how he's supposed to know everything. "Nevermind." She blows her breath out and kicks the sheet back. She stands from the bed and turns to walk into her bathroom, but he grabs her elbow. She yanks it away, glaring at him. "Don't."

"Okay, I'm kind of getting used to the bitch routine with you, but this is fucking extreme. What the hell is wrong? Would you just tell me?" She shakes her head, but he doesn't think it's to tell him she won't fill him in. He thinks she's just sad. Then she looks up at him and her eyes are all big and pathetic, and goddamn, he wishes they were still friends so he could hug her or something. "What's today?"

"Quinn's birthday," she says quietly, eyes on the floor.

Well, fuck. He really can't do anything to make this less shitty for her. (But he knows for a fact that's the first time she's said Quinn's name since the accident.)

"Oh." She rolls her eyes and steps away from him again. "Hey, wait a minute," he says, brow furrowed. "You need me to do anything?"

She's angry with him. How can he care right now, but not the rest of the time? Why is he so concerned when she's hitting him over the head with what's going on, but when they're barely speaking, he won't do anything to make that better. She thinks she hates him a little bit right now. She doesn't want to be around him. She wants to be out of this goddamn house. She doesn't want him looking at her like this, acting like he cares or pretending he's not still mad at her. She doesn't want to have to explain that she and Quinn, every year since they met one another, went to this amazing cheesecake place in Cleveland on each of their birthdays.

"Just get out," she says dejectedly.

He lets out a bitter laugh. "Fine. Whatever. Stay in here and fucking cry all day."

She narrows her eyes at him, balls her fists and stares at him. He doesn't back down. She doesn't know whether to be impressed or annoyed.

"Fuck you."

She can count on one hand the amount of times she's used that word in her life. It seems fitting now.

The smirk he gives her makes her want to scream.

Honestly, he didn't think she had it in her. The fact that it took a bunch of sadness and him apparently doing something to piss her off (what, he has no clue; he's just worried or whatever) to make her do it should probably freak him out. Whatever, though. She's crazy. She does stuff without good reason all the time.

No, not really, but when they're hardly speaking and acting like they're practically strangers, he can make up all sorts of shit about her and pretend it's true.

He really doesn't want to get into another stupid fight with her. He'll just let her have her little tantrum by herself, and maybe when she comes to her senses again, she'll go back to saying things to him only in passing.

Yeah. That'll be fucking great.

... ... ...

He really doesn't know what to think when Rachel comes downstairs with a pair of jeans, a tee shirt from her alma mater, and a pair of running shoes on. Her hair is in a ponytail and she's not wearing much makeup. When she heads straight for the door without saying anything to him, he's just plain pissed.

"Hey," he says, following after her after checking to make sure Violet is secure in her high chair. "Where are you going?"

To be honest, he's getting a little annoyed with her pulling the disappearing act and shutting him out. Not like she's done it often, but in the last little while, he's been left alone with Violet more than ever. He knows they're not getting along right now, but he doesn't like it. And Violet loves it when they're all together, and it's just not happening lately. It's not fair to her.

"I need to get out of this house right now," Rachel answers honestly. He's at least thankful for that. "I can't..."

"Alright," he says. He can understand her not wanting to be in the house today. "You want us to come with you?" She sends him a look that clearly tells him she doesn't want him anywhere near her. "You wanna take Vi?"

"No," she says, shaking her head as she grabs her keys. "I can't. I'm just...I need to be alone. And I don't know what I'm doing. Can you please..." She stops talking and takes a deep breath. She hates it when she can't speak properly. She's usually so clear. She talks for a living. "I know you've been doing way more than usual lately, and that's...Well..."

"Whatever," he interrupts. To be honest, her stuttering is kind of annoying right now. He'd really love for her to just tell him what she needs and what she's doing. "I get it."

She looks up at him, and she looks all hopeful and stuff. "Really?" she asks quietly. He nods once, shrugs his shoulder. "Thank you for doing this."

He smirks. "How much did it kill you to say that?" he asks.

His attempt at joking with her apparently doesn't go over, because she just tells him she has her cell if he needs her, and she'll text him to let him know what time she'll be home. He watches her back out of the driveway and wishes there were more he could do for her right now. He wishes he'd let her, but he knows they fucked up any chance of that.

After she's gone and he's got Violet settled down a little bit, Puck grabs the phone. He hates that he's about to make this call, but he's not at all enough of a dick to just ignore this day and how shitty it's got to be for the Fabrays. Hell, maybe that's where Rachel went. He finds out quickly that it's not. Judy answers the phone, sounding a little sadder than even he expected, and tells him they're just having a quiet day at home. She thanks him for calling and says he's a sweetheart for thinking of them. He doesn't know about that. He offers to bring Violet over if they want to spend the day with her, but she insists she doesn't want the baby around a bunch of tears, but they'd love to take her for a day soon. Obviously, he doesn't have a problem with that and he knows Rachel won't either, so he tells her to just let them know when.

She asks how Rachel is. Rachel will probably be pissed about it, but he tells the truth, that she slept in and she's not acting like herself and he's worried about her.

"She's never been quite as strong as she wants everyone to think," Judy explains. Shit, even he knows that. "But she and Quinnie were like sisters."

"Yeah," Puck says. He knows that, too. "I dunno. Every time I think she's getting better, something like this happens."

He really doesn't know why he's being so honest with this woman that, until recently, he really didn't know at all. She's surprisingly easy to talk to, though, and she knows Rachel better than he does.

"I know," she says quietly. He hears her sniffle, then laugh a little bit. "Maybe what she needs is a big old hug." He laughs with her, 'cause he'd feel like a dick if he didn't. "Just do that when she comes home."

He's pretty sure Rachel would hurt him if he tried to touch her, but he promises Judy he'll do it anyway, because it'll make her feel better if he does. Honestly, if makes him feel a little better to make the promise anyway.

... ... ...

Rachel really doesn't know what she's doing. She just knows she's been driving for over an hour before she even decides (or realizes) where she's going. The thought of even pulling up to this house should probably terrify her, but she gets out of her car and shuts the door. She's been here once before, but never went inside. She was with Noah that time, and he'd stopped in to drop something off to his mother.

Maybe spending a little time with someone who barely tolerates her is exactly what she needs. And sure, Noah isn't thrilled with her of late, but he'd still baby her and she doesn't want or need that. She could tell, even by the way he was treating her after she'd said those horrible words to him, that he was going to treat her differently than he had all week. He was trying to joke with her and he didn't make any comments under his breath about her leaving him with the baby. Not that she misses that treatment or anything, she just doesn't want him being nice to her out of pity.

What she knows of Mrs. Puckerman, there's no risk of that.

When the woman opens the door, she's obviously surprised to see Rachel standing there. Rachel wonders if Noah has called, or if Mrs. Puckerman is just sweet enough to notice when someone's upset. Rachel hasn't cried since she got in the car, but she's sure she doesn't look all that great.

"Come on," Mrs. Puckerman says, ushering Rachel into the house. "Let's make some tea."

So Rachel sits at the big oak table in the Puckerman's quiet dining room, drinking tea out of mismatched china cups. Aviva (she has insisted Rachel call her that) doesn't even ask what's wrong. Rachel explains it on her own, and Aviva is quiet, contemplative as Rachel explains what the day is and how she feels about it. Rachel's a little surprised that she doesn't cry any more, not even when Aviva lays her hand over Rachel's and says that it must be very hard to lose a best friend. Rachel asks who is Aviva's best friend, and the woman shares stories about Carole from when they first met, how they were both single mothers with young and reckless sons. It turns into a conversation about how Noah was as a child, how one time he cut chunks out of a three year old Hannah's hair, because the girl said she looked too much like the other girls at school. Rachel laughs, because she knows - and so does Aviva - that he wasn't being nice, he just knew he'd make Hannah look ridiculous, thinking he couldn't get in trouble for it, since he was only 10, and Hannah had asked to begin with.

Rachel listens to stories about Noah and Finn as kids, how they'd always get into trouble and claim they came up with everything together. Both mothers knew there was a little bit of truth to that, but that most of the time, 'little Noah' could needle Finn into doing just about anything. Like the time they rounded up all the cats in the neighbourhood and locked them in old Mrs. Bronwyn's garage, because Noah had found a key under a mat one time and thought it'd be a funny prank. (The neighbourhood didn't agree.) Or the time Noah convinced Finn that, really, Aviva wouldn't be mad if they cut his hair into a mohawk. Apparently Aviva came home three quarters of the way through the cut, and Finn dropped the sheers on the ground. So not only did her son have three quarters of a mohawk that she couldn't fix until she got new sheers, but Noah refused to let her shave his whole head. Apparently he had that hairstyle all through high school.

She ends up spending almost her entire day laughing. She didn't realize how badly she needed it, to be honest. Everything recently has been so tense, between Lucas (and ending it with Lucas), and work, and Noah, her head has been spinning. Everything crashed down on her today, which really isn't all that strange, considering.

When she leaves, she hugs Aviva in the doorway and thanks her for being so accommodating. The woman says, "any time," and Rachel really believes her.

On her way home, she stops to pick up Chinese from their favourite restaurant. She texts him to tell him she's almost home and asks if they need anything else when they're out. He replies and says they're fine, but that Violet's missed her, and Rachel wonders how it's possible that he's so incredibly sweet sometimes and such a complete and total jackass others.

But spending time with his mother has changed her perception of him somehow. She's still mad at him, of course, but hearing about him when he was younger, about how much he's changed over the years, especially this last one (these last few months) makes her realize that for him to go off on her like he did has to mean something more than he's willing to admit. She can definitely relate to that. She spent the day listening to his mother tell her how he and Finn used to steal one another's girlfriends and that's why Finn didn't introduce Quinn to Noah until I love you's had been exchanged. She heard about his family and his upbringing, and she learned things he's glossed over when she asked. He'd told her his dad left when he was young, but didn't mention that the man was a drunk with a bad temper. She knew he spent a lot of his teen years looking after Hannah, but didn't realize all that had entailed, how involved he'd been.

At the heart of it, he's a good person. A great one, maybe. She's seen that. She doesn't know why he's spent so much time trying to hide it.

When she walks through the door, she hears laughter and footsteps running in the living room. Smiling, she walks through with the bag of food in her hand, and she puts her hand on her hip and arcs her brow when she sees Noah 'chasing' a giggling Violet around the sofa. He's got his hands out, like he's threatening to tickle her, and she's just shouting, "No, no, no!" and Rachel isn't sure that's supposed to be his name or the actual word at the moment.

He stops in his tracks when he sees her, gives her this little expression like he does any time she catches him doing something this adorable.

"We were...uh...playing," he says, laughing when Violet stands right in front of him, smiling up at him like she's daring him to 'catch' her. He grabs her and jerks her up quickly, making her squeal as he flips her upside down.

It always makes Rachel nervous when he does that. She knows he's always very careful (and that Violet loves it) but the baby always looks like such a little rag doll when he carries her like that.

"I can see that," she laughs, starting towards the kitchen. He follows her and watches as she starts pulling items out of the paper bag.

"Feeling better?"

She smiles at him as he sets Violet in her high chair. "Much, thank you," she says quietly. She figures he's going to find out about her day soon enough, and he might as well hear it from her. "I actually spent the day with your mother."

This is basically the longest pleasant conversation they've had in a week, and she realizes very quickly that she wants it to keep going.

"Why the hell would you do that?" he asks. She shoots him a look for the curse, but he just rolls his eyes.

"I guess I just needed someone to talk to who didn't know Quinn," she explains delicately. He leans against the counter and nods pensively.

"Makes sense," he admits. He narrows his eyes at her. "She didn't talk about me, did she?"

Rachel grins a little, looking down at the open container of rice in front of her. "Of course not. Not at all."

"Liar," he laughs. "She totally told you the cat story." Rachel laughs so hard it makes Violet giggle loudly from her place. Puck smiles. It's actually kind of nice to see Rachel in such a good mood and really get to talk to her again. "Whatever. That was awesome."

Rachel laughs and hands him a plate of food. "Really? Was it awesome that you and Finn had to complete two years' worth of yard work to the woman whose garage all those cats destroyed?"

He grins and shrugs his shoulder. She doesn't think he cares much. "Just think of all the stuff we did that we never got caught for," he says.

Rachel laughs again and goes to the fridge to prepare something for Violet. Puck is halfway through his dinner, and she hasn't even started hers when she catches sight of him and realizes this is as good as she's felt all week. She won three cases and it didn't compare to this, quietly spending time in the kitchen with Noah and Violet. It's kind of bittersweet when she thinks about it, because it should take far more than this to feel this way, and she should get it more than once a week. If things could just go back to normal, back to how they were before Lucas, then her life wouldn't feel nearly as difficult as this week has been.

So as she's feeding Violet pieces of pear with one hand and using her chopsticks to feed herself with the other (she notices Noah is watching her, impressed) she decides it's time to end this stupid tension between them and just talk things through like the sensible adults they are.

"Noah, can we talk this evening after Violet goes to bed?"

"Uh. Yeah," he says. She looks at him doubtfully, as if to ask if he's sure. "It's cool. But you're not gonna, like, yell at me or anything, are you?"

She thinks he's joking. She's going to answer honestly anyway. "Well, don't do anything to make me angry, and I can promise I won't yell."

He laughs a little bit, nods. "I guess that sounds fair."

She can feel his eyes on her as she and Violet play in the backyard. They're laying out on this blanket Rachel inexplicably loves, and he's sipping from a can of Mountain Dew as he sits on the back steps, looking out over the lawn. He doesn't have to be there. She thinks it means something that he is. It's been a week since he looked at her without being forced to. She didn't realize how much she'd miss it until he wasn't there anymore, staring at her in the mornings or watching her watch television. It's funny how someone can be such a huge part of your life without you even noticing.

She sees him smile when she laughs, duck his head when she does something affectionate with Violet. At one point she catches him adjusting his pants. There's no doubt that's what he's doing. She convinces herself it's just a male habit, because anything else would be inappropriate to even consider, even though she's done it before. Several times. That's what got them into all this trouble in the first place. She was sexually frustrated and trying not to cross any lines, so she'd found someone else.

She doesn't exactly know how to explain her short-lived 'relationship' with Lucas without saying just that. She doesn't have long to think of something, since it's rapidly approaching Violet's bed time.

She's not entirely surprised when Violet clings to her as soon as they're in the house. She's a tired little girl and she wants to be put to bed, and Rachel, if she may say so, does it better than Noah. Okay, they probably do exactly the same things, but Rachel speaks to the baby in a sing-songy lilt, and it always seems to lull Violet straight to sleep.

Puck can hear Rachel moving around upstairs. She's so good at getting Vi settled for the night, and there's something really, really sweet about the way she does it. She does this thing that's half-singing, half-talking. Hell, sometimes it makes him sleepy. As much as he'd like to pass out right now (it's not even 8:00, but it's been a rough day...week) he's kind of anxious about this conversation. See, he doesn't know how it'd go if she decided he was incompetent or stupid and decided she wanted full custody of the kid or whatever. She's the lawyer; he's got no clue how that shit would work. Not that it matters, though, because he thinks the fact that they were civil during dinner and stuff probably means she's not going to, like, try to poison him so she can do this all alone.

She's barely at the foot of the stairs before she's talking.

"I'm sorry," she says seriously, and he turns around from where he's sitting on the couch so he can see her. "This whole week, the fight, everything. I'm really sorry."

"Me, too," he says, because he thinks he means it.

"We both completely overreacted, and we can't act like that if we expect this living situation to work," she says. She sits down next to him, tucking her leg beneath her so she's facing him. "And I know you understand, but sometimes I have these moments when I just feel so completely trapped here, you know?" He nods, and she presses on. "And I love Violet. Obviously I love her, and I don't want to do anything to imply otherwise, but I really just...I needed a break."

"Yeah," he says quietly. "Yeah, I get that."

She senses there's more he wants to say. He's looking down instead of at her, and it's unsettling. "What?"

He turns to her, looks her straight in the eye. "Look, was it me you needed a break from?" he asks bluntly. Her mouth opens, and closes again before any sound can come out. "'Cause things were all good, then...I dunno. We were close or whatever, then you just snapped and fucked this other dude."

"_Noah_."

"No, whatever," he says, frustrated with himself. He'd love to get through this without sounding like a jealous asshole. It'd be nice. "I mean, do what you want. I was a fucking moron about it, but who you sleep with is none of my business. I dunno. The timing just seemed weird."

"I wasn't doing it to get back at you, if that's what you're implying," she says seriously, eyes narrowed.

"I didn't say that."

"Well, what are you saying?" she asks, and she's trying very hard not to be defensive.

"Fuck, I don't know," he groans, tipping his head back. They're quiet for a moment, then he turns his head to look at her. "Maybe we were spending too much time together or whatever. I get all possessive and shit when I start to actually care."

She bites the inside of her cheek and smiles a little bit. "You do care, don't you?" He shrugs his shoulder and nods. "Do you want us to spend less time together?" she asks.

If she's being honest, it doesn't sound like the worst idea. It'll give her more time alone to handle her stresses, and it will certainly remove most of the sexual tension that's surrounded them recently. It'll be like in the beginning, when they were getting their bearings with this whole situation and they were never worried about which movie to watch in the evening, or whether and they weren't texting throughout the day. Maybe if they went back to the way things were before, everything would run a little more smoothly. Violet needs to be their first priority, and Rachel knows they can do right by her even if they aren't sitting together on the sofa until bedtime.

"I dunno. Things have been fine this week when we were avoiding each other," he says before realizing how shitty that sounds. "I mean for Vi."

"Well, surely we can be around one another more than we have this week," she scoffs. He laughs a little and nods in agreement. "Okay, then." She stands and smiles down at him. "If everything is fine between us and I can stop worrying, I'm going to go up to my room."

"Wait a sec." He stands and reaches for her arm. "Judy told me to hug you," he tells her.

She breathes out a laugh and meets his eyes, hers filled with doubt. "Did she?" she says, just assuming he's joking. He nods anyway, figures it can't hurt.

"I talked to her for a while today, 'cause I knew you couldn't...I didn't figure you were gonna call," he admits quietly.

She smiles. "That's really sweet of you. Thank you."

He shrugs his shoulders like it's no big deal. "So, hug it out?"

She laughs and steps forward. The embrace lasts less than 10 seconds, but he smiles when she pulls away. She thinks he might be watching her walk out of the room, but she doesn't turn around to find out.


	9. Chapter 9

"Lucas called again," Julie says as she pokes her head into Rachel's office.

Rachel groans and closes her eyes. "How much more clear do I have to be with him? It's like he doesn't get it!"

Julie scrunches her noes. "Well, you did let him take you out a bunch of times and have sex with him."

"Julie!" Rachel shouts. "Say it a little louder, I don't think Mr. Chambers heard you!"

"Whatever." Julie rolls her eyes. "Not like he's gonna make you partner anyway." Rachel's jaw drops. "Seriously. You've got a kid now. You're dead to him."

It hurts a little more than Rachel wants to admit to know that she's completely off the radar just because she's now someone's primary caregiver. But then she thinks of all the added responsibility that would come with being appointed partner, and she thinks she might not want it anyway. Not that it was going to happen any time soon - not within the next couple years anyway. Then she thinks about Violet as an adorable little four year old, and she smiles to herself, because she can't wait for that, and she knows she wouldn't want to work more hours and have more responsibilities that would take her away from that little girl.

"How do I make myself dead to Lucas? Because apparently breaking up with him just didn't do the trick."

Julie gets this wicked grin on her face that Rachel knows will work out for her. The girl is an evil genius.

"I'll block his number through the switchboard," Julie says.

"You know, there's a gleam in your eye that would be mildly terrifying if you weren't doing this for my benefit," Rachel says.

Julie flicks her wrist and leaves, pulling Rachel's door closed again.

The only personal calls she wants anymore are basically from her family. And Noah.

... ... ...

Puck's a little embarrassed when Rachel gets home during the middle of one of the very rare and even more secret displays of his juggling talent. The fact that he's juggling a Raggedy Anne doll and two stuffed cats doesn't exactly help his bad boy image, you know? But whatever. He's got a little sister, and this shit used to entertain that brat for hours. Vi's been fussy all day, so he busted out the bug guns and she's been quietly giggling on the sofa for the past 15 minutes.

The look on Rachel's face? Well, it's kind of cute, her little smile and the way she obviously wants to tease him about this. She probably will later. He'll probably let her.

"How's my girl?" she asks, walking over to the sofa. Violet tries to stand up, and Rachel picks her up before she can fall.

"Your girl?" Puck raises his brow and she rolls her eyes as she lets Violet play with her necklace. "She's good. Well, now she is. She's been batshit all day."

"Noah," Rachel laughs. "Please." He just sighs. Really, one curse a week around this kid who still can't say apple properly isn't going to stunt her development or whatever. "What was wrong?"

"Dunno," he says, shrugging his shoulders. He flops down against the arm of the couch so one foot is still on the floor. He thinks Rachel looks at his crotch, but he's going to go right ahead and ignore that. "She's just been all moody."

"She doesn't look moody to me," Rachel coos, looking at the baby. She sits down on the sofa so she's kind of between his legs, leaning back against his knee.

Yeah. They're supposed to not be as close as they were. Pretty sure her arm being two inches from his dick doesn't really fit that plan. But he doesn't move or anything, because he doesn't want her to be embarrassed or, you know, move at all. (What? Is it really a shock that he likes her all close to him?)

"I was thinking of grilling up some meat."

Rachel laughs and glances at him. Violet is resting her head on Rachel's shoulder like she's tired, which is basically impossible because she slept for over two hours in the afternoon once he finally got her to stop wailing.

"You can count me out of that meal idea."

"I picked up some soy junk for you today when we went shopping," he says. She smiles at him like he's the man for thinking of her. Really, they've been living together for months and he's very aware of how much she complains if he doesn't get all that bird food and shit she eats. "Whatever. You want?"

She nods and nuzzles her nose against Violet's hair. God, she's adorable. They both are. These two girls are basically the cutest things he's ever seen.

And really, he'd get up, but it's nice sitting there with Rachel. And she's not moving, so he can't really get up without drawing attention to the fact that she's sitting all close to him and stuff.

"I suppose I should go change," she says. She looks down at the baby, who doesn't appear to want to move. "I'll take her with me."

"Cool."

He lifts his leg to get up, and she moves at the same time. It makes his knee graze her ass. He doesn't hate it. She doesn't either, he can tell. She glances at him and he'd swear she was smiling if she didn't turn her head too quickly for him to confirm it. Once she's upstairs and he's in the kitchen, he realizes he's just as fucked as he was two weeks ago when he laid in his bed with his hand in his boxers because she's so goddamn gorgeous that it might actually kill him.

The idea that they're just a few months into this 'lifelong' commitment is freaking him the fuck out.

... ... ...

Rachel plans a day trip for the three of them. She's actually really excited about it, and she doesn't care what Noah says or how many times he rolls his eyes, he's definitely excited, too. They're just going to the zoo, and Violet is a little young yet to understand or learn much of anything, but Rachel doesn't care. The younger the girl is when she's exposed to these types of things, the better. It certainly won't hurt her. And for whatever reason, Violet is kind of obsessed with monkeys right now. Maybe because Noah bought her a stuffed monkey with long, multi-coloured legs. She's been dragging the thing around for weeks and she won't go to bed without it. Admittedly, it is adorable to hear the girl say 'monkey' all the time. Violet has a beautiful little voice. Rachel thinks maybe she'll be a singer.

Noah has already shot down the idea of toddler dance classes, but Rachel fully intends to convince him of it yet. She thinks about showing him photos from her competitions when she was just a little older than Violet is now. She was adorable at that age, and there's no way he can deny it. She's not going to let him.

She's used to getting her way. She thinks he's the only person she's ever met as stubborn as she is.

Anyway, Violet is in bed for the night, and Rachel is on the sofa with her laptop on her knees. She's been asking him all week to print out a Google Map so they don't get lost on the way. He's sitting next to her and rolling his eyes with every click of her mouse.

"I like direct routes, Noah," she insists. "It's ridiculous to just assume you know how to get someplace you've never been without checking a map first."

"Who says I've never been?" he asks. "Remember, I've got a younger sister. I used to take her when she was little and cared about that shit. I know where I'm going."

"It's two hours away." She turns to him, doesn't care that it makes her leg brush against his. They've been doing well with these invisible boundaries lately. But then still spend time together without it being awkward.

"I _know_. I've _been_ there," he says in frustration.

She pokes at his thigh with her index finger for no reason, and he laughs and turns back to the television.

"Is there gas in the car?" she asks.

"How the fuck could there not be gas in the car?" he asks, annoyed. He's glaring at her. She thinks it was a perfectly valid question. "You really think I'm dumb, don't you?"

"I do not," she says, waving off his concern. He raises his brow. "Noah, clearly I don't think you're dumb. You're very smart, and you're..." She stops talking when she sees his lips curve into a grin. Laughing, she says, "I'm not going to sit here and feed an ego I'm sure doesn't need feeding."

"I dunno," he says, still smirking. "I'm all vulnerable and shit now 'cause of all the doubt in my abilities."

It's ridiculous - absolutely preposterous - but she wants to kiss him. They've never kissed, obviously, and she's not going to do it. This just feels like a couple's bickering argument that could be ended with a peck on the lips and a mumbled apology that doesn't really even need to be spoken at all.

They are not a couple, and she's not going to apologize.

"I'm sure you'll survive," she laughs, turning back to her computer.

"What's with you?" he asks. She shrugs her shoulder. "Seriously. You're being all weird."

"I am not," she insists petulantly. "I'm just...I guess I'm excited."

He smiles, leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees so his face is right next to hers. "How come?"

"It's been a while since we all went somewhere together," she tells him. It's true. Weeks, maybe. "And with all my dance and voice lessons and competitions, I never went to the zoo as a child."

He looks like he doesn't believe her one bit. "You've never been to the zoo?"

She shrugs sheepishly. "Once," she admits quietly. It's not a good story, but she feels like telling him anyway. "Fourth grade. But I wasn't...I wasn't exactly likable when I was younger. The other kids thought I was weird and practically tortured me." He looks sympathetic. She knows, however, that if they'd gone to the same school, he would have been one of the ones drawing on the back of her shirts in marker or dipping the ends of her hair in paint. "When it came time to choose chaperones, I was dead last and all the groups were full."

"That blows," he says.

She laughs softly. "Yes, well, the 50 year old chain-smoking bus driver wasn't exactly the best guide."

"Wow," he says, turning to her a little more. "You were the loser kid who sat alone in the front of the bus."

She laughs again and looks at him. "That was me. I'm really not exaggerating when I tell you Quinn was my first real friend."

For whatever reason (she's not about to ask) he reaches over and runs his hand up and down her back a couple times. She can't possibly let herself think about how much he's changed since she met him, or even since they moved into this house, because it's staggering. Six months ago, if she'd told him this story, he'd have been laughing and making note to torment her like everyone else used to do. Now he's comforting her and she's letting him, and it's all working a little too well.

"Anyway," she says, tucking her hair behind her ear, "I haven't been to the zoo since."

She goes back to reserving parking online (how brilliant is that?), and he goes back to watching sports highlights (honestly, how many highlights can one person watch in a day? she's sure he's going to meet the threshold). She's barely paying attention to him when she feels him slide a little closer and look at the screen over her shoulder.

"What's your favourite animal?" he asks, completely out of nowhere.

"Pardon me?" she laughs.

"Your favourite animal. What is it?"

She smiles because he's smiling, bites her lip and thinks of an answer. "I've always really loved polar bears," she says quietly.

He claps his hands and rubs them together a few times. "Done. Tomorrow, we're going to see the polar bears, no matter what. Rain or shine, you're getting fuckin' polar bears."

She turns to him, elbow resting on her knee, cheek in her palm. "You know, you really are incredibly sweet."

He shrugs his shoulder, attempts to give her a charlie horse on her thigh, and announces he's getting up to get a beer.

His phone rings on the coffee table a few moments after he's disappeared into the kitchen, and she hesitates when he asks her who it is. Does she really want to know who's calling him at 10:30 on a Friday night? Not exactly. But she won't be rude, and the questions she'd have to answer if she didn't check his caller ID are simply not worth it.

"Santana," she says, holding the phone in her hand.

She doesn't necessarily love the way he runs back into the room, but she ignores it because jealousy is not a becoming trait for a woman to have.

Besides, what kind of name is Santana anyway?

(She knows. She thinks she heard Finn toss the name around once or twice. Actually she knows from Quinn that Finn lost his virginity to...)

Her head snaps up as she hears Noah take the call. He paces for a moment, then sits back down next to her. She knows, because his mother told her, that he and Finn have shared a few girls. She just wasn't aware that he was still in touch with any of them. And is he still_ hooking up _with his old high school flame?

"I can't," he says seriously. "'Cause I have plans tomorrow...No, I'm not doing that." Rachel goes back to her laptop. He'll know she's listening anyway, but she doesn't need to stare. "Because I'm not driving all the way out there, then driving home early in the morning. I need sleep." He looks at Rachel and she shoots him a sympathetic smile. "I have responsibilities and stuff...Whatever...Be a bitch, then...Yeah, San," he laughs. "You do that." He ends the call and drops the phone on the table again, saying a word under his breath they both know Rachel hates. "Seriously, that woman..."

Rachel doesn't know whether to be happy he's turned down what can only be described as a booty call, or upset that he seems so affected by this other woman.

She's being ridiculous.

"Is this the same Santana who took Finn's virginity in a seedy motel room?" she asks.

Okay, so maybe she's being a bitch, too.

"The one and only," he mutters. "Thank god." He takes a long sip of his beer and shakes his head. "Here's the thing about Santana. She thinks everyone wants to bang her. If she met you, she'd think you were, like, two seconds away from ripping her clothes off. Doesn't matter that you're straight and a total tightass."

"Noah!" she cries. "I am not a tightass."

He gives her a doubtful look. "Whatever. She just thinks everyone's gonna come as soon as she calls, like it's some kind of privilege to fuck her. It'd be more believable if she didn't spend more time on her back than anyone I know."

Rachel laughs despite the truly terrible things he's saying about another human being, clearly one he's been with before. "That's not a very nice thing to say," she manages.

"'S'the truth," he insists. He takes another sip of beer. "Anyway, she's not as good as she thinks she is, and it's not like I'm gonna drive an hour for a quick fuck, then drive back and go to a damn zoo tomorrow with an infant." He points to himself with his bottle. "See? Even I have more morals than she does."

There are so many questions she wants to ask, but they're all ones she has no business asking. And she doesn't want to put any stock into him choosing her and Violet over sex. He's got his reasons, and they seem to be good ones, and that's more than enough for her.

There's just one thing.

"If we didn't have plans tomorrow?" she asks, looking at him, because playing coy right now would give her away.

"I'm over it," he says simply. "More to life than sleeping with your ex, you know?"

She laughs harder than she should.

She learned that lesson, too. No, Lucas wasn't her ex, but she thinks the rule still applies.

"Yes, I've come to realize that, too."

The line of his jaw goes rigid and he looks back at the television. She knows the mention of her tryst with Lucas obviously still makes him feel like she did at the thought of he and this Santana woman. For some reason, it makes her feel better.

... ... ...

This trip to the zoo could be done in, like, an eighth of the time if Rachel didn't insist on letting Violet walk everywhere. They have a stroller, and he's the one pushing it. Yup, he's one of those losers who pushes a fucking stroller with no kid in it. He always made fun of those douchebags, now he is one. Rachel's holding Violet's hand and picking her up to see the exhibits and stuff, and he's schlepping all their shit around like some kind of pack mule.

The crazy thing is? He's not the only guy here doing it. Hell, he's not even one of 100 guys doing it. It's like women are zoo crazy and men get completely forgotten and ditched for elephants and hippos or whatever. It's kind of bullshit.

When he's standing back from the alligator pit (fuck that shit; he doesn't do gators) with his arms crossed and his aviators on, he realizes he's smiling as he watches Rachel with Violet perched on her arm. She's all excited and talking to Violet, trying to get her to say the names of the animals and stuff. It's cute. It'd be cuter if he wasn't sweating his balls off. Why is it always so goddamn hot at the zoo, no matter what?

"Yours?" some dude beside him asks.

Puck looks over to see the guy with an empty stroller and a bag slung across his chest. He doesn't really know how to answer that question. He supposes Violet is his, but Rachel isn't, really. She glances over her shoulder at him and smiles, so he says the first thing that comes to mind.

"Yeah."

"Cute kid," the guy says. "She's like, a year, huh?"

"Yeah, just over 13 months," Puck says. Until he became Violet's caregiver, he never really got the whole age-in-months thing. Now he realizes there's actually a big difference between 12 and 13 months. Shut up. It's true. "Where's yours?"

"The little boy in the overalls." He points and Puck follows his line of sight. What he sees is a little kid, maybe 2, with dark hair and denim overalls on over a plaid shirt. And a smokin' hot blonde in tight jeans and a tee shirt Puck suspects is this dude's wife. "He's all about gators right now. Those things freak me out."

Puck laughs and nods in understanding. Rachel walks back over and smiles at the stranger before handing Violet to Puck and shaking her arm out.

"She's getting so heavy," she comments. Puck smiles. Vi is barely even 20 pounds. Rachel's just all tiny and she has these skinny little arms. "Do you want to have lunch now?"

"Heck yeah," Puck says. He winks at her when she smiles and rolls her eyes. "Good talkin' to you, man."

"You, too. Take care," the guy says.

He smiles at them again and Rachel takes over pushing the stroller. "Who was that?"

"Dunno." Puck shrugs his shoulder and Violet wiggles in his arms to be put down, but there are a million people around right now and he doesn't trust any fuckin' one of them. "Some dude. Said she's cute."

"You should have gotten his number." He looks down at her like she's insane. "What? It would be nice for you to know other fathers."

"'M'not a father."

"You know what I mean," she says, smiling at him again.

"Whatever," he mumbles. He hoists Violet up so she's draped over his shoulder, and she lets out a squeal. "Think they got Mountain Dew?" Rachel rolls her eyes. She's always telling him it's amazing how many tactics he can employ to dodge a serious conversation. "I'd kick a puppy for a Mountain Dew right now."

"Noah!" Rachel squeals, laughing as she shoves at his arm. He laughs, and Violet giggles. He pulls her down so she's sitting on his forearm and the kid laughs out, "No!" like she's mimicking Rachel or something. It's fucking adorable.

There's no Mountain Dew, but Rachel tells him water is better for quenching thirst than soda is anyway, so he buys five bottles and tosses them under the stroller while she asks him if he's really that hot. He raises his brow at her and their eyes lock for a moment, like instead of saying the comment out loud, he's sending it to her telepathically or something. And she blushes. She totally wants him, even if she's not allowed and he's not allowed to want her to want him. Yeah. That feels like it makes sense.

The picnic for lunch, and he swears he's gonna bring a slingshot next time they come to this damn place and start picking off seagulls one by one. Those things are disgusting. He watches one pull a french fry right out of some kid's hand, then declares they're finished eating and Rachel looks so grossed out that she agrees.

Violet falls in love with the otters, so they stay there a while and he puts her up on his shoulders so she can see into the tank easily. She giggles any time they duck back underwater. He's not imagining it when he feels Rachel's hand low on his back, sliding over so it's curled around his hip. He drops one arm around her until she realizes that means he's only holding Vi with one hand and freaks out about it. He pulls Violet down and hands her to Rachel, which kinda sucks because she stops touching him so she can hold the baby, but whatever.

After they've seen the polar bears and Rachel is absolutely positive they've seen every species of monkey in the entire goddamn zoo, they head back to the parking lot. Violet is asleep in her stroller, and Rachel is yawning about every thirty seconds. Puck knows exactly what's going to happen once they get into the car.

They're not even on the highway when he looks to his right and sees Rachel sleeping. A glance in the rear view tells him Violet's still out.

He turns the radio up a notch and listens to classic rock as he drives with one hand on the wheel and the other on the console between he and Rachel's seats. Seconds before Rachel wakes up, she grabs onto his wrist. He looks over at her and watches her eyes open, then she pulls her hand away.

"Sorry," she says. He smiles and she looks over her shoulder to check on Violet. "Where are we?"

"Almost home," he tells her.

She shifts in her seat and smiles. "Today was great," she says sleepily, looking over at him again.

He can't help it. He grins and shifts his arm so it's touching hers. She doesn't move hers away. "Yeah," he admits. "We should do shit like this more often."

She doesn't say anything, but she's got this really sexy little smile on her face as she turns and looks straight out the windshield again.

... ... ...

Rachel is in so much trouble. The problem is that after their big fight and falling out, they made up and now things are almost better than they were before. It's probably stupid, but she trusts him more now, and she thinks he trusts her more now, too. She knows if he has a problem with something she's doing, he'll come out and tell her, and she can do the same with him. They don't need to beat around the bush. It's like as soon as they yelled at one another, they realized they don't want to do it anymore, so they can express things before they pile up and threaten to make a huge mess.

And he was so good with her and violet when they were at the zoo. He's amazing with that little girl, and it makes Rachel's heart swell. Really, she can feel it. She loves the way he holds Violet and kisses her cheeks or her hair, no longer caring who sees him doing it. She thinks it's adorable that he talks to Violet in his regular voice, but says the silliest things. They'd decided to pick up what Quinn and Finn had done and ban the use of baby talk in their house and around Violet. She thinks it makes sense, too, because the girl is talking quite well and saying more and more words all the time. She got Violet saying 'bird' yesterday when they were in the yard, and Noah taught her to say 'swing'. She blows kisses and giggles and claps her hands. She's happy and well-rounded, and Rachel thinks she and Noah are doing an amazing job, really.

And yesterday, the three of them spent the entire day in the back yard, from before noon until after dinner, and Rachel honestly doesn't know what she'll do if and when Noah gets a girlfriend, because the idea of sharing him with another woman makes her jaw twinge.

The voice in her head is getting louder and louder. It's starting to scream that all that jealousy is because she wants to be with him. It's very hard to ignore something when it becomes such a nuisance.

She's walking back to the office after a morning session in court when she sees a familiar man coming towards her on the sidewalk. He's wearing a grey suit and a white shirt, open collar, and he's got his eyes fixed on his BlackBerry in his hand.

When she gets closer, she reaches out and touches his arm. "Matt," she says, smiling when he looks up at her. "Hi."

"Hey!" he says, reaching his arms out to hold her. She lets go of the handle of her rolling file box and hugs him back. "How are you?"

"I'm doing really well actually. Just coming back from court," she tells him, smoothing out her jacket once she's in front of him again.

"D'you win?" he asks.

She gives him a coy grin and tilts her head a little. "Of course."

"Atta girl," he says. He tucks his phone into his breast pocket as she smiles. "Hey, how's that hot tub treating you? That was the last time we saw one another, right?"

"I think it was," she admits. That seems like an embarrassing amount of time for them to go without seeing one another, considering she's living with Noah, and Noah is close friends with Matt. "It's great. Actually, there's nothing better than slipping in there with a glass of wine after Violet goes to bed."

She can't read the smile he gives her. She figures it out when he speaks. "Yeah, Puck said you looked really good in a two piece." She's a little taken aback for a moment, not only because Puck has spoken to Matt and said she looks good in a bikini, but because Matt is almost certainly flirting with her right now. "We should get together soon."

She doesn't know, now, if he means she and him, or all of them. She answers as diplomatically as possible without giving him the wrong idea. "You're welcome at the house any time. We'd love to have you for dinner. Noah's quite the grill master."

He laughs a little and nods, then looks to the ground. "It's weird to hear you call him that." She looks at him questioningly. "He's never let anyone other than his mom call him by his first name."

She lifts her shoulder a bit. "He's never complained when I do it," she says.

"Why would he?" he asks, eyes locked with hers. A beat passes, then his phone rings and he reaches for it. "Sorry. I don't wanna be rude, but it's my boss, and..."

"It's 10:30 in the morning," she laughs. "Shouldn't you be in an office somewhere anyway?"

He's laughing when he answers the phone and he holds his finger up and looks at her pleadingly as he tells his boss to hang on a second. "It was really great seeing you," he says sweetly, holding his phone to his palm.

"I'm serious about dinner. Just call Noah and invite yourself."

"He'll love that," Matt laughs. "But I will."

"Great," she says quietly. He brings the phone to his ear again and shoots her a wink before he walks past her and continues down the sidewalk.

It's been a while since someone actually flirted with her. Lucas was direct, or completely clueless, one or the other. Noah's comments are more exaggerated and joking; they don't hold weight. Matt was just seductive and clever and she could see his intentions rather clearly.

Perhaps if she wasn't dwelling on the fact that Noah clearly likes the look of her in her bathing suit - enough to tell his friends about it - she'd pay more mind to what Matt was really trying to accomplish.

And if she goes home that night and slips into her smallest bikini, walks through the house with her towel draped over her arm instead of tied around her body like usual, it's just because she's had a long day and she wants to get into the hot tub as quickly as possible.

She grabs a beer from the fridge and she can practically feel Noah's eyes on her as he stands there talking on the phone to his mother. She turns to him and hands him the beer (she never can get the cap off herself) and smiles at him when he passes it back to her.

"Coming?" she mouths, gesturing with her head to the sliding door that leads to the back yard.

She'd laugh at how quickly he tells his mother he has to go if she didn't think it would give her away.


	10. Chapter 10

They're flirting in the kitchen late in the morning. He's not even making it up. Violet is eating her lunch and Rachel's preparing some salad thing while he makes the world's best cold meat sandwich (seriously, this thing could win awards). She's on her way to the fridge for salad dressing and he's going for mustard. He holds the door open and she ducks under his arm and stands directly in front of him so he can't possibly get what he needs until she moves. When he sets his hand on her hip, she turns her head to look up at him, then slips back under his arm and goes to stand at the counter again.

When she's going to put her dressing back, she waits until he's done with the mustard and takes it from his hand, slips it back into the fridge for him. He checks out her ass when she bends down to get something out of the drawer. He doesn't even realize he's close to her until she backs up and she's brushing against him. She's at the counter again and his hands are at his sides, but that's definitely not where he wants them to be.

"What?" she asks, laughing softly. "Go back to your own counter."

"Nothing," he says, and yeah, it sounds way too gruff, but he doesn't care. "Salad looks good." He doesn't give a shit about her salad. He's still looking at her body. She pushes her shoulder back against his chest and picks up her fork. "Good?"

She finishes swallowing and turns around, but he's still there in front of her. "What is your concern with my salad? Don't you have an artery clogging meal to consume?" she asks. She's smiling up at him. She definitely doesn't seem to care that he's got her backed up against the counter.

Whatever. He knows she's been flirty lately. Like, way more than ever. She's been teasing the fuck out of him, and he's liked it. A lot. He doesn't really know why she's doing it, but it's fun so he's not about to ask.

"Just making sure you're well fed," he says. He's grinning at her and she pokes him in the side with her fork, then pushes him away as he laughs. He walks over and picks up his messy sandwich and she watches him take a massive bite. "Mmm."

"You're so gross," she says, pulling a face. He shrugs one shoulder and throws a chunk of bread at her.

She brushes against him when she's putting her plate in the sink and he's chewing the last of his sandwich, and his hand snakes out and he grabs her by the waist. It's not like he really means to, but when he sees a hot girl and she's pressed against him, his first instinct is to, you know, touch. She looks up at him as Violet coos from her high chair, and just as he reaches up and brushes Rachel's hair behind her ear, the doorbell rings and he pulls his hand away. She's still smiling when she slips away from him, though, so that's probably a good thing. She's not going to tell him it can't happen again, or worse, pretend like it never did happen.

He doesn't have a lot of time to think about it, though, because when he makes it to the door Mrs. H. is standing there with a smile on her face. He's actually totally surprised and happy to see her, since it's been a few weeks. She's practically his own mom, and fuck it, he loves her. She calls him every couple days, and he knows that has a lot to do with Violet, and a lot to do with the fact that she misses her son, but she treats him like her own, and she always has. Maybe just a little more now.

He pulls her into the house and into a hug, and when she's telling him she just had to see 'the kids' and Violet, Rachel walks out of the kitchen with the baby toddling next to her. Violet's face lights up when she sees her grandmother. Puck thinks that's awesome. Mrs. H. scoops her right up and kisses her face all over, and Rachel's smiling like crazy, too, and goes over to collect her hug.

"What are you doing here?" Rachel asks once she's pulled away. She's got her hands tucked into the pack pockets of her jeans. Great. That's not sexy or anything.

"Babysitting," Mrs. H. says, smiling as she holds Violet. "You two need a break. You've been working so hard, Rachel, and Noah, you've been wonderful. You haven't had a night without Violet since this started."

"Carole, it's fine. We're...we don't mind," Rachel says. Puck nods in agreement.

"Well, fine. I'm her grandmother and I'm taking her for the night," Mrs. H. says seriously, brow raised like she doesn't want arguments. Puck holds up his hands and Rachel smiles and shakes her head. "I would have called, but the surprise seemed better or you both would have tried to talk yourselves out of taking a night off." Puck thinks that's probably true. He doesn't mind the night off, but he's already thinking about all the things he needs to send with Mrs. H. to keep Vi happy until she's home again. "I know it's short notice, but I'm sure you can each find something to do on a Saturday night."

"Well, let's grab some stuff, then," Puck says, because he can tell Rachel isn't really sold on the idea yet. She looks at him and he winks as Mrs. H. heads for the stairs. He leans down to speak into Rachel's ear, says, "she'll be fine," and she nods and breathes out her relief.

45 minutes later, when he and Rachel are standing in the driveway watching Mrs. H. drive away with Violet strapped securely in her carseat in the back, he literally has to pull Rachel back into the house.

"I'm just worried," she says when the door's closed.

"Really? Couldn't tell," he says sarcastically. She shoots him a look. "Rach, Carole's kept her before. Her place is baby proofed. Well, it was Finn-proofed, since he was kind of a moron. Same thing."

"Noah!" she cries, eyes wide.

"What?" he laughs. "I mean, I loved the dude like a brother, but he wasn't exactly Einstein or anything."

"You're terrible." He shrugs his shoulder and heads into the living room. "It seems really quiet now."

"Yeah. I don't really know what I'm supposed to do if I'm not, like, playing with blocks and going to bed at 10:30."

She laughs again, sits down next to him on the sofa and tucks her legs beneath her. "I could nap."

He honestly almost tells her he'll join her. He doesn't, but he wonders what she'd say if he did. "I could get drunk."

"_I _could get drunk," she says. She's grinning when he looks over at her with a raised brow.

"I've never seen you drunk." She shakes her head. "Kinda want to."

"I was joking," she laughs. He shrugs his shoulder, so she rolls her eyes and sits back a little further against the couch. "I don't know what to do with myself."

"Me neither," he admits. Although he can think of a few ways they could spend their time. Most options include nudity and her coming apart for him, because of him. He's not going to suggest those, but the thoughts are there. Basically all the time, actually. "Ribfest is on." She nods, but doesn't appear too interested. He needs to make it clear that he's suggesting they go together. "Wanna go?"

"I'm a vegetarian," she reminds him, face scrunched in disgust. It's actually kinda cute.

"There are bands and whatever. You don't have to eat meat. And there's a beer tent and stuff." She seems to think about it, bites her bottom lip and tries not to look at him. "Come on. It'll be fun."

"Just the two of us?" she asks quietly.

He grins and arches his brow. "You see anyone else around?"

"No," she laughs, hitting his arm. "I just wondered if you were going to call one of your friends or something."

"Naw," he says, raising his hips to adjust his pants. (Shut up. They've been flirting all goddamn day.) "My friends are douches."

"They are not," she insists seriously. She turns to him so her leg is brushing his and he can basically see down her shirt. "Your friends are great."

"Whatever. Let's just go out," he says.

Okay, he could call Mike and Matt, but shit. Matt is a total flirt, and he's been talking about how gorgeous Rachel is since he met her. He's a bit too much of a pussy to actually do anything about it, but still. Puck's not going to invite the guy just to watch him do his thing and try to hit on Rachel all day. And Mike's awesome and totally doesn't bust his balls about the baby thing or the Rachel thing. Problem is, Mike somehow has always been able to tell when Puck had a thing for someone (even if until now those feelings were always purely sexual). So yeah, Mike's been kind of quiet and sage since the day they installed the hot tub and he must have seen something happen between Puck and Rachel. He doesn't want weird looks from the guy all day.

And it's not weird for him to want to spend a day alone with her. More than all that other stuff, that's what he wants to do. They've never really hung out without Violet. Well, not since they started actually getting along with one another.

"Okay," she says, standing up. She smiles at him. It's kind of one of his favourite things she does, smiles just at him, not the baby, not anyone else. Shut up. She's got a good smile. "Just give me a half hour to get ready."

He looks at her like she's nuts. "_Ready_?"

"I can't go out like this," she laughs.

"Why not?" he asks, looking her up and down. "You look fine." She raises her brow and puts a hand on her hip. Fucking women. What's wrong with the word 'fine'? "Fuck. You look awesome. Sexy. Gorgeous. You're the hottest girl I've ever seen. Let's just go."

"Thank you for that convincing rant," she says sarcastically. "But I'm not going anywhere in a pair of jeans I've had since college."

He looks down at her legs, how the denim curves over her hips and thighs. They may be old, but he thinks that just means she's had the same body since she was, like, 19, because they're fucking perfect on her.

"The jeans are sexy," he says seriously. "You should leave 'em on."

She rolls her eyes again and walks from the living room. She probably thinks he doesn't see her blushing, but he totally does. He really digs that he can make her do that.

"Half hour," she calls as she heads up the stairs. "I promise."

Well, shit. He figures if she's going to change and clean herself up, he should probably do the same. Of course, his idea of cleaning up is to piss, wash his hands, and pull a clean plaid button down on. He doesn't know what the hell she's doing in her room, but he can hear her singing and stuff, so he just lays on his bed for a while and listens. He's not a pussy or anything, she's just got a really pretty voice.

Whatever. He gets up after a bit and goes downstairs. The way he sees it, if he's just laying on his bed when she comes in looking all hot (she always is) and tells him she's ready, he's just gonna think a bunch of dirty shit (dirtier than he's been thinking for the last hour, since he found out they'll have the house to themselves tonight). As much as he'd like to stay home, peel of her clothes, and do fun stuff to/with her, he knows that's not really an option. Flirting is one thing. Fucking is another. Considering they've never kissed (had a couple close calls, but those don't exactly count) he's thinking it'd be a big jump to her, say, going down on him in the middle of the afternoon.

Wait. What's he doing?

Right. He grabs a couple bottles of water from the fridge, since he knows she likes to have something to drink on longer drives. Ribfest is only 40 minutes away, but still, she considers that long. She almost died when he told her about the road trip he and Finn took to Mexico the summer after freshman year of college.

She comes down the stairs and he's busy making sure the patio doors are locked and everything's relatively tidy in the kitchen. She's got him convinced (brainwashed?) that coming home to a messy house really sucks.

So, he'd expected her to be wearing jeans and one of her fancy tank tops or something. Maybe a button down shirt, since she likes those so much. He didn't really expect her to be wearing a summer dress that shows her cleavage off perfectly and makes her legs look like they're fucking straight from heaven or some shit. Seriously. The colour is somewhere between green and blue, and it's sleeveless and cut to just above the knee. Her hair is held half up by a silver clip and her makeup is...

"You look amazing," he says before he can stop himself. He stands there for a second thinking he might have just blown this whole thing, but then she gives him this perfect little smile. "I mean, the jeans were good, but this is..." She giggles when he can't find the right word. "Whatever. You ready?"

"Thank you," she says, still laughing. "And yes, I'm ready."

She argues about taking his SUV, since her car is apparently so much easier on gas. He tells her that her massive Mercedes sedan (the one that used to be Q's) really can't be that much better than his mid-sized SUV. It's probably bullshit, but he just really loves driving his vehicle. The seat's positioned perfectly and the radio presets are kickass, and it's just comfortable. She stops complaining about five minutes after they get in the car and an old Mr. Mister song comes on the radio. She squeals about how much she loves the song and how they're underrated, then she turns it up and she's tapping her feet and singing along. Fuck, she's cute.

He watches her as she takes sips of water. She can feel his eyes on her when she's singing. When they're talking, she turns her body toward his and she watches the little grin that tugs at his lips as she speaks. It's an incredibly silly and childish thought to have, but she thinks that to anyone who might be looking at them, they appear to be a couple. The really scary thing is that she thinks she'd like that. Quite a lot, actually. That same irrational part is telling her to reach over and touch him somehow, to put her hand on his thigh or rest it on his seat behind his shoulder. She doesn't, though, because no matter how many times he finds ways to touch her (and there are a lot), she thinks that's all fairly harmless. They've already decided the shouldn't be doing this, and yet they're doing it anyway. It's completely irresponsible of her, but she's wondering what else they're going to do that they really shouldn't?

She remembers coming to Ribfest with her fathers when it was held in the little park by the lake and people just brought their own grills and fed other people for the joy of sharing food. Now it's in a huge park at the edge of town, and parking is $5, and it's another $15 to even get in the gates. Noah pays, though she tries to tell him she can pay her own way. The look he gives her actually makes her smile. If she didn't know any better, she'd think he likes taking care of her or something.

He puts his hand at the small of her back as they're walking through the crowd at the front entrance. God, he loves this place. It smells like barbecue sauce and meat and deliciousness, and there are seriously, like, 100 barbecues around with different shit he gets to eat if he wants to. It's like heaven, but with beer.

"So much for keeping kosher," Rachel mumbles.

He laughs and pulls his hand away once they're able to walk with a little more room. "That's the whole point," he says with a grin. "See, I get a whole day to eat this stuff, then it's out of my system for the rest of the year."

She shakes her head then gives him a look. "You think I don't know that you go and eat bacon with Matt every second Tuesday morning?"

"Fuckin' traitor," he says under his breath. She laughs again. He knew having Matt to the house for dinner was a bad idea. "You know he only tells you shit 'cause he wants to get in your pants, right?"

"What?" she cries, stopping in her tracks. Several people look at her, and he's just laughing as he watches her eyes go wide. "That's completely...No. You're being ridiculous."

"Babe, c'mon. The guy's been over to the house once a week since he ran into you that day."

"You know about that day?" she asks. He steps closer to her to let someone pass behind her, and his hand is on her elbow for some reason. She doesn't really mind. "What do you know about that day?"

"Everything," he tells her, brow raised. She blushes and looks down, and her hair covers part of her face. He leans forward and speaks into her ear. "And you do look fucking hot in a bikini."

The way he sees it, they're going to fall into bed together sooner or later. Might as well be sooner. Actually, he prefers it, for obvious reasons. And tonight's perfect, since they've got the house to themselves. He's got a plan, alright? And it involves flirting like hell with her until she's throwing herself at him. It's a _good_ plan. The way her hand is digging into his forearm right now? Definitely a good sign. He's got her a little speechless, too, which is basically a miracle and can only be taken as a good thing.

"C'mon. I got pigs to eat."

"Noah," she groans, "could you please be sensitive to my..."

"Hey, you knew what this place was and you still came," he tells her. "Not my fault you wanted to be around me so much you forgot about the poor little piggies."

"I hate you right now," she pouts.

He glances at her from the corner of his eye. "Pretty sure we both know that's not true."

She laughs again and bumps his hip with hers. He drops his arm around her shoulders. "Has anyone ever told you you're a bit of a flirt?" she teases.

"Nope. Not once. Weird, huh?" She's shaking her head and he steers them towards his first barbecue of the day. "Besides, I save all my best stuff for you."

"The scary thing is, I don't even think that's true."

He turns to her, hand sliding down her arm. She looks at it, then back to him. "I can turn it on if you want me to."

She doesn't say anything in response to that, just looks at him through her lashes.

Green light.

He didn't expect it to be this easy, but damn, he loves that it is.

Rachel figures she might as well just give in at this point. She's obviously terrible at trying to resist him, and frankly, she's getting a little tired of that game anyway. This new one, the one where he flirts and she lets him and sometimes she flirts back, is so much more fun. These little touches and comments are definitely making her feel good, and the way he'd leaned over and spoken in her ear just about had her turning her head to kiss him. She could have, too. She would have missed his lips by a wide margin, but she would have gotten the hinge of his jaw, and god, that is one of his sexiest features. It's ridiculous. His jaw line makes her breath catch.

Granted, right now as she watches him devour some ribs like he hasn't eaten in days, he's not so attractive. Oh god, he's got sauce on his nose. And he's wiping it off with his forearm. He's so lucky she always carries wet ones in her purse these days. By the looks of him already, he's going to be needing quite a few of them.

But then she watches him laugh at something the man at the barbecue says to him, and they're both looking over at her, and he smiles, so she walks over. They're talking about her vegetarianism, and the man looks right at her and says, "Nice of you to come with your man to this thing today," and Noah slips his arm around her shoulder.

Well, he tries. Despite the flutter in her stomach over him not correcting the man, she really doesn't want his dirty hands on her skin or her dress right now. She grabs a napkin off the table next to them and presses it to his chest, smiling as he laughs.

"You know, it is cool of you to come," Puck says as they walk away. She's a little ahead of him and she totally catches him checking out her legs when she looks at him over her shoulder.

"It's fine. I'm sure I'll have fun. And it's nice to be outside," she says sweetly.

"You're such a lawyer," he says. It's not the first time he's said it. She tries to be all diplomatic and shit, even when he can tell she doesn't believe the shit she's saying. "By the way, beer tent's over there, and they have other food there."

Her face lights up and she pulls away from him. "That's where I'll be," she says, and he laughs, nods a little. "Come find me later."

He fucking knows she means for it to be all seductive and shit. It works. And yeah, maybe the whole idea of this day was so they could spend time together, but he knows it isn't really her scene, and he's not going to drag her around with him so she can watch while he eats. He's not a total jerk. Besides, he's not going to be that long. He'll just hit up a few 'cues and then head over to sit with her, have a beer, and watch one of these bands.

He can see her over there. She's laughing and talking with some random woman. She brushes her hair off her shoulder and sips from a bottle of water. She's got a little plate of food sitting in front of her on the table and she's picking away at it. God, she's hot. He really doesn't see how sleeping with her could be a bad thing. He really doesn't. He's pretty much determined that if they do this, it's not gonna be a one time thing. Unless the sex is bad. But shit, the woman's a perfectionist. There's no way she's bad at anything. And in his fantasies? Well, she's fucking incredible.

Rachel has no problem entertaining herself. She's actually quite good at it. She finds she's easy to talk to, and people seem to like her well enough. She also likes that Noah isn't one of those men who thinks she can't be left alone. Paul was like that and it drove her crazy. Sure, it's endearing at first, thinking someone wants to be around you constantly. Then it just becomes a matter of personal space. She's a grown woman and she doesn't need someone to hold her hand 24 hours a day. She doesn't think Noah would do that if she asked him to.

She's caught sight of him a few times, here or there. He's really quite easy to pick out in a crowd. Broad shoulders, toned arms, that jaw, strong features. She's watched him a little bit, actually. He was standing and sipping from a can of Sprite, and she watched his adam's apple work, the line of his neck as he tipped his head back. She watched the way he held the can between his fingers like it was a beer, not a soda. She watched the smile on his face as he talked to the people cooking all this meat.

She's so glad there was other food to eat. She's actually tried several different kinds of salad, and produce from a local organic farm she's positive she's going to visit soon.

As much as she enjoys her own company, she really wants him to return. She thinks that probably a big part of his charm is the fact that he's such an incorrigible flirt and it becomes a bit of an addiction. He keeps her on her toes, always waiting for the next thing he's going to say, the next innuendo, the next look, the next touch. It's quite clever of him actually. Part of her wishes she had something like that to keep people interested. That said, Noah hasn't really had a problem with any of her flirting. She's nowhere near as good at it as he is, but she doesn't really think anyone is.

After an hour, he makes his way across the park to the beer tent. It's so fucking hot out, he legit feels like they're teetering along the equator. It's totally not right. He's unbuttoned his plaid shirt so he can get a little air, and he's got just a white tee shirt underneath. There are people around wearing a lot less, and they should be wearing a fuck load more. He's seriously considered taking his shirt off completely, but fuck it. He can deal.

He sees Rachel sitting there with her phone in her hand. Her back is to him, and he notices she's pulled her hair up. It looks good like that. Fuck it. She always looks good. He heads to the 'bar' and grabs a couple beers before walking over and sliding one in front of her. He stands behind her and she tilts her head back. The crown of her head hits his stomach, just above his belt (_fuck_) and she smiles up at him.

"Hi," she says. He winks at her, then moves to take the empty chair next to her. "Have you had your fill of ribs?"

He leans back and pats his stomach dramatically. She rolls her eyes at him. "Yup. Stuffed. You good?"

"I'm fine," she insists. "I had a beer already. You're driving home."

He laughs and raises his brow. "As if I'd let you drive my car anyway."

"I thought you trusted me," she says with her brow raised. She takes a sip of her beer.

"Yeah. I do. With Vi. Not with my baby," he says. They both start laughing and she shakes her head at him. "I'm kidding. It's cool. I told you I wanted to see you drunk."

"I didn't say I was going to get dunk."

"We'll see," he says lowly, raising his cup to his lips.

She turns to him in her chair, swings her legs over so they're between his and she's facing him. She's got one hand on the back of her chair and the other holding her beer on the table. "You should probably know I'm not the kind of woman who completely looses her inhibitions when she's drinking," she says seriously. She thinks she almost means it. If she drinks a few beer, she should be fine to not...reach out and grab onto his collar.

Anything more than that is a little bit more of a grey area. Considering she's on beer number two and she's been close to propositioning him all day, things could get interesting.

He leans forward, rests one elbow on his knee so his face is level with hers. "Again, we'll see," he says.

It sounds like some kind of promise, and it stirs something at the base of her spine that she hasn't felt in...a very long time, if ever.

"We know what band's playing?" he asks, setting his hand on the back of her chair so it brushes the skin just above the back of her dress. Yeah, he did that on purpose. Her skin is all smooth and stuff. Not his fault it's so tempting and right there to touch.

"It's a Journey cover band," she explains, meeting his eyes. He gets this little smile on his face like she knows he does when he's thinking of his best friend.

"Finn's favourite band," he says quietly. She nods, sets her hand on his knee. It's meant to be comforting, just a subtle touch, but she doesn't move it and he doesn't ask her to. "They better fuckin' play Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin', or I'mma throw some shit. No joke." She nearly spits beer out her nose. Her hand comes off his knee to cover her mouth and she glares at him. "You good?" he laughs. She nods as she tries not to laugh again. "It's basically their best song."

"Your way with words is..."

"Kick ass? I know," he says. She laughs again and he drains his beer, then stands. "C'mon. Let's get closer."

She gets a little bold. He's pushing through the crowd to get a little closer to the stage, and she keeps getting bumped and pushed a little bit. She reaches for his hand without hesitating, and he smiles at her over his shoulder, holds her hand tighter than he has to and keeps her close to him. When they're standing in a little clearing that seems like it was designed for them, she expects him to let go of her hand. And he does. But it's just so he can slip his arm around her waist.

She sips her beer and tries not to think about how much of a _date_ this is.

He really digs that she's letting him touch her. Hell, when she grabbed his hand he thought she was someone else. He had to look over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't hanging onto some fatty or something. But no, there was Rachel in that fucking dress, smiling at him and holding his hand. He feels like a 17 year old. No. He feels like a nerdy 17 year old who's never been on a date with a girl before. Not that this is a date, but whatever. It could be. People probably think they're a couple, so whatever. He keeps his arm around her waist because it feels good there and she's letting him.

He goes to get her another beer before the band comes on. Rachel lets out a whistle when the lead singer takes the stage, and when Puck looks at her, she just shrugs her shoulder. "He's cute," she says.

"Please," he scoffs. "Dude's, like, 21."

She turns to him. "I can't like a younger man?"

"Liking someone and wanting to screw them are two different things."

The opening chords to Only The Young play and she locks eyes with him. "Sometimes they're the same thing," she says over the music.

Holy fuck. This is so happening. He can't believe it. It's like they just flipped a switch and decided to fuck. It's amazing.

He's a little surprised that she knows all the words to most all of the songs. It's kind of hot, though, and sometimes he can hear her voice over the music. She's swaying her hips a little, too, and she gets all bubbly and jumps up and down a bit when the band plays I'll Be Alright Without You, because apparently it's her favourite.

"How the hell do you know so much Journey?" he asks, laughing when she throws her arms up, beer in hand (where are those inhibitions now, Rach?) as she shimmies her hips.

"Show choir!" she explains happily.

"Show...What the fuck is a show choir?"

She gives him this dead serious look, stops moving all together. "Are you kidding me?" He shrugs his shoulder and shakes his head. "Glee club?" He grins at her. She's such a _nerd_. "I'll have you know that you're looking at a national finalist right now."

"No shit," he mutters.

"I'm serious. We did a bunch of Journey songs. I brought the house down with Faithfully. I'm quite talented." His arm shoots out to sit at her waist and she smiles up at him. "I thought I was going to be a star."

And yeah, maybe it's fucking lame, but leans over (and maybe, since she's moving, his lips brush against her ear), and he says, "You could have been."

He doesn't know. He's heard her sing and she's awesome, and these little dance moves she's showing off right now are pretty good. Maybe she could have been something different, something more. Not that she's not enough as it is.

He's pretty shocked when she wraps her arms around his neck and just hugs him. It's not all intense or anything. She's just got her arms around him, and he's got his around hers. She doesn't say anything, doesn't move, doesn't kiss him (damn). But it's nice, her pressed against him like that He doesn't even know why she's hugging him, but whatever.

She pulls away and brushes a wisp of hair off her forehead, gives him this shy little look, then turns back to the stage and downs the rest of her beer.

He takes his chance when Faithfully starts playing. She's got another full beer in her hands, and people are pushing closer to the stage. It's fine. He just moves so he's behind her, and for a while he wasn't touching her. The piano starts off the song, though, and he slides his hand down her side to sit on the curve of her hip. She moves back a little so she's brushing against him. She doesn't look at him, doesn't say anything, doesn't put her hands on him at all. She just sings along (he can hear her, and holy shit, she's good) and moves a little with the music. He moves with her, and maybe it's kind of like dancing, but whatever. Halfway through the song, he wraps both arms around her waist, and she sets her hand on top of his where they're sitting over her stomach. He hears her say his name, but he doesn't say anything in response, and she just leans back against him more.

She's not drunk. She's not. She's buzzed, definitely, but she's not misguided at all in her belief that the way she feels in his arms right now, she's never felt anywhere else. His chest is hard against her back, and she can feel him all around her, like he's leaning down a little bit so he can be closer and feel more of her, too. She can feel the vibrations as he sings along. She's never heard his singing voice, but she's hearing it now. It's gorgeous.

God, she does not need another reason to want this man.

The band closes with Puck's favourite song (hell yes, and it's awesome to be touching Rachel during) and Don't Stop Believin', then he's got his arm around her shoulders as they walk to the parking lot. There's another band on after, and he asks if she wants to stay, but she shakes her head rapidly and slips her arm around his waist, and yeah, he just wants to be home.

She's quiet in the car, and he doesn't really know what that means. He knows she's definitely buzzed. It's really cute, how she slips off her shoes and pulls her legs up onto the seat, angling herself towards him. He'd really love to just reach over and touch her, anywhere. Actually, he'd love to live closer than 40 fucking minutes away. She just plays with the radio and turns up the songs she likes. She makes some small talk about the band, mostly criticizing their tuning or stage presence or whatever, which he thinks is pretty hilarious, since when the music was playing, you would have thought it was Steve Perry himself with the way she was dancing and kind of freaking out. It was awesome.

"Today was really a lot of fun," she says during a radio commercial break. She reaches over and turns down the volume, and she almost grabs his hand over the console but decides against it.

"You sound surprised."

"No," she laughs. "No, not at all. It was just nice to spend the day with you." She knows she's giving him the perfect smile when he glances over at her. "I wish we'd done this sooner."

"Yeah," he says, a little quieter. "I just thought, you know...I guess I didn't wanna like, push it or whatever."

"Push what?" she asks. She turns towards him a little more, and he leans his elbow on the console to be closer to her.

"I mean, we've always been kinda all over the place, you know? Like, we hated each other, then we were good, then we hated..."

She holds up her hand and smiles. "I know," she says. "I'm really glad we're good now."

Some song comes on she insists she sang in glee club or whatever, so she turns the radio back up and sings along as they pull into their neighbourhood. She twists a lock of her hair around her finger and slips her feet back into her shoes, crosses her legs and her dress rides up.

He really hopes she understands that this little thing they have going between them? It's fucking _on_. There's no way he's going to bed tonight without her. He doesn't care if they're in her room or his, but he's getting her naked tonight. She can't tell him she doesn't want it at this point. They've basically been going at it all day and now he just needs to get their clothes off and finish what they started months ago. He's not even lying when he thinks he probably wanted to fuck her from the moment he met her. God, he can remember that. And the wedding (she looked hot in that dark purple dress) and that date they went on where she was all hot and angry. Then she started holding a baby and being awesome and...

It's just all come to a head today. He wants her, and he knows she wants him. They can pretend all they want that this is something they shouldn't explore, but fuck that. He knows ignoring it is going to do more harm than just giving in.

Given the way she smiles over at him when he casts a glance her way, he thinks she feels the same.


	11. Chapter 11

He pulls into the driveway and his stomach is kind of in a knot because he's trying to figure out his best plan of attack. Then he realizes he's not the kind of douche who needs a plan of attack.

She stretches when she gets out of the car. She's not drunk by any means, but her head is just slightly fuzzy from the beer she drank, and the day in the sun, and Noah. He's behind her as she walks up the steps to the house. She's very aware of how close he is as she puts her key in the lock and pushes the door open.

She's got one shoe off, hand braced on the wall, when his hand curls around her hip and he spins her around. He pushes her back against the wall and she knows her eyes are all wide as he steps closer and pins her there. He slips his hand into her hair and looks down at her. She knows she's never been looked at like this before. He looks like he wants to devour her. In her opinion, he's not doing it fast enough.

"Rachel."

"Just kiss me," she says. Her breathing is all heavy and she knows she sounds desperate. Truthfully, she is.

So when he lowers his lips to hers, she finds her body goes a little slack until she wraps her arms around his neck and he presses his hips forward to keep her there. His lips are moving against hers and she has to remind herself to kiss him back. She doesn't think she can be faulted for losing her mind just a little bit when his tongue is tracing the seam of her lips and he's gathering her dress in his hand at her hip.

"Wait," she breathes out before he can deepen the kiss. He just kisses along her jaw, then, because fuck that. Unless he hears an unequivocal 'no', he's not waiting for anything.

"No."

"Noah," she whispers into his ear. He moves his hand down the side of her neck, fingers sliding over her pulse until his palm is ghosting over her collarbone and he pulls down the strap of her dress so he can kiss the skin there.

She forgets her point completely when his hand finds her breast and his lips find hers again.

And she doesn't even care anymore. She really doesn't. His lips feel amazing and his hands are incredible. When he arches into her and she can feel how hard he is she gasps a little, which gives him the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. He tastes amazing. How is it possible for one person to be this intoxicating? She wants everything he's willing to give her. She shudders when she realizes that he will.

She feels incredible against him like this. He's known her body is amazing. He's seen it enough. Fuck, he's seen her naked. This is a million times better. She's soft in the right places, and she's totally into this kiss. Plus, she said his name all sexy and he is definitely down with that. Then she whimpers and her nails are digging into the small of his back. He doesn't even know when she moved her hand. He also doesn't care. Her hand slips under his shirt at his shoulder and pushes it off, and he lets go of her long enough so his shirt can fall to the floor, but there are still far too many clothes on right now. He moves his hands up her thighs, pulling up her dress until his hands are resting over her underwear at her hips. She presses herself forward and all he wants is to shuck his pants, push her panties aside, and fuck her into the wall. But then he pulls back a little and looks at her, and they haven't even turned on any lights and he can see how flushed her cheeks are, how swollen her lips. He brushes his thumb over them and she closes her eyes, and her tongue darts out to touch his skin.

Holy fuck.

"We gotta go upstairs," he says seriously, hand sliding around her hip to sit on her ass.

She nods and swallows thickly. "I know. I tried to tell you, but..."

He cuts her off, kisses her again to shut her up. She's cute, trying to have a conversation, but that's not what either of them wants right now and she probably knows that. You know, considering his hand is on her ass and she's tugging his bottom lip between her teeth.

"You can't keep doing that," she says, laughing softly. His hand moves up to the back of her hip beneath her dress and pulls her closer to him. "_Noah_. Stop cutting me off."

He leans against her, chest against hers and his lips against her temple. "You really wanna be talking right now?"

She lets out the sexiest noise yet and shakes her head. When she pushes him away, his hands slip from her body and she kicks off her other shoe then takes his hand, weaving their fingers together, and leads him to the stairs.

Those stairs look like a fucking mountain right now. All he wants is her beneath him, kissing like she kisses and feeling like she feels. He wants to taste more of her (all of her) and tease her and make her arch her back. So halfway up the stairs, he pushes her against the wall again and kisses her hard. The way he sees it, he's gone months without doing it and he wants to do it as much as humanly possible for...for as long as she'll let him. She's pushing up his tee shirt and fucking _finally_ someone's gonna be showing some skin. Yeah, his hand was on her ass, and that was awesome, but he needs bodies to be touching right fucking now. He takes his hands out of her hair and grabs his shirt at the back of his neck, carelessly dropping it onto the stairs below them after he's pulled it off. Her hands run down his chest and she leans in to kiss him, smiling, he thinks.

"My room?" he asks. It's a fucking stupid question, really, 'cause they're not kids or anything stupid like that, but he figures he can make her as comfortable as possible, and if that means she wants to do this in her room, then he doesn't care. At all.

"Mine," she says as she kisses along his jaw. He pulls away and watches as she looks over his body. The night light in the hall makes her look amazing, and she practically runs up the rest of the stairs.

She almost wants to laugh at him for shutting the door, but it's a little funny, how serious he is about having her. A little, but not a lot. He's already got his pants undone when he steps closer to her, and he drags down the zipper of her dress at her side as he kisses her. God, she could get used to kissing him. She could get very used to it. They've only been doing it for a matter of minutes, really, but it feels familiar somehow, like she's done it before. Maybe she's just wanted it so badly for so long that it feels like it's happened before.

Then his hands are on her breasts and his forehead is pressed against hers.

"Fucking beautiful," he mutters. She finds her hands grasping at his sides, digging into his skin. "So gorgeous."

She'd love to tell him to just stop talking and get on with it, but she thinks that this has been such a long time coming, she should probably appreciate every word. It's just that she's having a hard time thinking rationally when he's touching her like this. So she kisses him and slides her hands up his back and shivers when his thumb moves gently back and forth over her nipple. He's already so, so good at this and they aren't even naked.

He pulls away. He knows that if she changes her mind, which she really could do any second, he's going to be in a really shitty place. Fucking her is so much better than, you know, not fucking her. He obviously won't push her, but he cannot take this any further (even though he's idly playing with the clasp of her bra) without knowing for sure that he's getting off. It'd just be wrong at this point if he had to use his hand right now.

"If you don't wanna..."

She sets her hand at the back of his neck and plays with the hair there. It feels really good. Fuck, everything feels good right now. "I think I've been making what I want pretty clear all day."

He smiles and kisses her, laughing a little bit when she pushes at him so she can reach behind her. He pushes her hands away and goes back to unclasping her bra, and when it's falling away he looks down at her body and his hands slide down her sides to pull her closer. She could do this every day. She knows nothing will ever feel like this again, not with him. He's seeing her for the first time and making it fairly clear he likes what he sees. His hands are smoother than she thought on her bare, heated skin, and she cannot get enough. She literally doesn't think she can push herself close enough to him, and when she moans as he kisses across her cheek to meet her lips again, she hears him chuckle and she doesn't even care.

"Noah," she breathes out. "Noah, please."

He steps out of his pants as he pushes her closer to the bed, and when she lays down, she's looking at almost his whole body. She pushes her hair back off her forehead and tries to calm herself down a little bit. She wouldn't be embarrassed if she let go as soon as he touched her, but she doesn't really want it to happen. She expects him to push his boxers off and join her. She knows she's in for something amazing when he does the latter without doing the former.

He usually talks more. He talks _a lot_. But right now, he's actually kind of overwhelmed or something. He's just looking at her laying on her bed and waiting for him, and he can't think of anything to say that will sound good enough, so he doesn't talk.

He lays down half on top of her, hand over her hip and touching the only piece of fabric still on her body. He leans over and kisses her a little more gently, because he knows this isn't going to be quick and dirty, not like she probably expects, given how fast things have gone since they walked through the door. He hears her suck in a breath when his hand slides over her hip and his fingers dip between her legs.

"What?" he asks quietly, lips moving along her jaw.

"I'm...I'm nervous," she says, laughing softly.

"That's cute." He smiles and tucks his fingers beneath the fabric of her panties. She closes her eyes and grabs onto his arm. "Good?"

Good lord. _Good_ doesn't even begin to describe it. She's still nervous, but he's definitely good with his hands and he's making her forget just about everything she's ever known. She manages to tell him she wants him to take her panties off, and she's definitely happy when he does it. He kisses up the inside of her leg and her breathing grows shallow. Her hands run over his hair when he's within reach, and he kisses the inside of her thigh, moans when he gets closer to her center. The anticipation might kill her. It's been a long time since anyone made this particular act good for her. Then his tongue is on her and she has no doubts whatsoever about his abilities. She should probably be worried that she's giving herself to him so quickly. They've barely been home 15 minutes and she's naked on her bed with his head between her thighs. But it's not like this hasn't been a long time coming, and frankly, she _doesn't care_. She wants him. Badly. She wants this feeling, the tension in her stomach, right below where his hand is resting.

The thing is, he's usually got a game plan. He knows what women like and where to put his fingers and his tongue and when to give more or less and how to drive them right to the edge and either pull back or push them over, depending on how he wants things to go. All that is forgotten right now. He's still making her feel really fucking good, he knows, because she's making hot sounds and moving her body in ways that prove it. He just doesn't have any particular map for this right now. He's just doing what feels right. God, everything feels right. She tastes amazing. No lie, it's like the best thing he's ever tasted, and if that's in his head he doesn't care. He's painfully hard and he needs to take care of that sometime in the near future. He knows it'll happen, which is a really fucking good piece of info to have.

She's making him crazy, and he doesn't think she has any idea. He still hasn't decided whether or not he wants to make her come before he's inside her. When he tries to pull away to say something kinda dirty (he's sure a girl like her could appreciate a little dirty talk) she presses herself closer to his face, and fuck, she wants to get off and he wants to see her come, so that solves that problem.

He slips a finger into her easily, and she rolls her hips. He loves how responsive she is. It's like everything he does to her is exactly what she wants. Either he's that good, she's that hard up, or they're just that good together. He thinks it's a mixture of options one and three.

"Noah, please," she breathes out. He looks up and she's covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her eyes closed tight, one hand in his hair and the other clutching the bedspread. "Please, I'm so..."

He adds another finger and puts his mouth back to work, and seconds later, she's keening out his name, breathing in the sexiest way _ever_ and arching her back. He rides it out with her, works her with his tongue until she pushes his face away and closes her legs. Her eyes are still closed. He makes a note to make her keep them open next time she comes (he wants to see her, okay?) Her legs don't stay closed long, because after he drops his boxers, he lays on top of her and she parts her thighs so he can lay between them.

She realizes she's been the beneficiary of any and all foreplay this evening. She could tell he was big before when he was pressed against her, but he feels even bigger now that he's laying naked between her thighs. She's already had an amazing orgasm and she's already anticipating her next one. Her mouth floods with saliva at the thought of him inside her. She'd be embarrassed by how much she wants him if he wasn't looking at her the way he is.

He kisses her and she can taste herself on his tongue. She's never had that before. It's strangely erotic and it makes her hips buck against his against her will. She doesn't even feel like she's in control of her body at all right now. It's completely betraying her, and she _loves it_. She feels kind of sinful and wanton, but she wants to feel him, wants to touch him and make him feel even a fraction of what he just made her feel.

"That was amazing," she says as he cups her breast and kisses her neck, down across her collarbone. "You're...amazing."

She usually has better words. She's a little distracted.

"I know," he says smugly. She pushes at his shoulder gently and he laughs and kisses her again. She takes the opportunity to reach down between them, and he groans into her mouth when she wraps her hand around him. He's thick and hot and she's scared by how much she wants him, right now. She strokes him twice and he buries his face against her neck. "_Yes_."

She angles her hips again and hopes he gets the message. He must, because he knocks her hand away and pushes her thighs apart a little more, then looks down as he guides himself into her. She should be worried that he didn't even ask whether or not he needed a condom, but she's on the pill, so she isn't too concerned about anything other than the fact that he's inside her for the first time and it feels so good.

He groans as soon as he's pushing into her, because shit, she's tight, and she feels even better than he thought she would, which, to be honest, scares the fuck out of him. And he didn't bother fucking around with a condom, 'cause he knows she'd tell him to stop if they actually needed one.

"Damn, Rach," he bites out, lips against her cheek. "So good." She just nods and he kisses her again, just his lips against hers, but hard enough to show her he means what he's saying. "So fucking good."

"Noah, please," she says, angling her hips again. She's thankful he gave her a moment to adjust, but now she just needs him to start moving before she loses her mind even more than she already has. He pulls back, then thrusts into her again, and she's entirely surprised by the word that comes from her lips like some kind of broken moan. "Fuck."

She thinks he likes hearing that word, because he pushes into her hard and squeezes her hip so hard she's sure she'll bruise. She doesn't care in the slightest. She just wants him to keep doing what he's doing. And he does.

If she weren't busy thinking about his hands and his mouth and his everything right now, she'd seriously question why she didn't do this sooner. Why were they fighting this? It seems like such a given now, that they'd get together somehow. She doesn't know what it means for them, but she doesn't really care. At this point, all she's worried about is what's building inside her, coursing through her body. She never doubted he'd be incredible. She's thought about this before, about being with him like this, and he's far exceeding her expectations.

He slows down because if he doesn't, this is all going to be over way too fast. The problem with going slow is that he can feel absolutely everything. She's so wet and so tight, and she's absolutely fucking perfect. He'd put money on that. She's got one hand on the small of his back, the other between his shoulder blades. Her knees are bent and she tastes like sweat, and it's all for him. It's a little mind-blowing, knowing he's the one who's got her doing all this.

"Don't stop," she breathes out. He'd like to tell her she's out of her damn mind if she thinks he's stopping, but a shudder runs through him instead when she kisses this spot on his neck, just below his ear. Fuck, how'd she find that spot? She cries out when he hits some place inside her, and she's clutching him a little tighter now. "_God_, right there."

She hitches her leg a little higher and wraps it around him. She might kill him yet. "Shit, Rachel." He laughs just a little bit and kisses her hard, pushing into her again and making her moan when he hits that spot again. "You close, baby?"

He asks because he sure as fuck is, and these deep strokes are pushing him closer and closer by the second. This isn't lasting as long as he wants it to, but fuck it. Quality over longevity. He knows he's going to make them both come hard, and he doesn't care how much time that does or doesn't take.

She nods her head and whimpers when he licks the shell of her ear, then peppers kisses across her cheek until he's nipping at her lips again. She claws at his back a little when he snaps his hips. Apparently she digs any change in rhythm. That'll be fun to explore later. Not right now, though. She breathes out his name again when he slows shit right down, practically whines when he pulls all the way out, only to enter her hard again.

"Can I come inside you?" he asks, pulling back to look into her eyes. Well, he tries, but her lids are snapped shut. "Open your eyes, Rachel." She does as he tells her, but she has yet to answer his question. "Baby, can I come inside you?" he asks seriously.

"Yes," she says, nodding. "Yes. _Please_." Fuck, that's hot. Not even two strokes later, she's starting to flutter around him. "_Noah_."

"Open your eyes," he commands again. He tips her chin up and she opens her eyes just in time for him to watch her come, lips parted, hands clutching his back. It's enough to make him let go, just watching her. She feels amazing clenching around him. "_Fuck_, Rachel."

He doesn't stop moving until he's given her all he has, and when he drops his head to her shoulder, she's running her hands down his back. Both of them are trying to catch their breath, and she's still pulsing around him, which feels fucking incredible. He's a little worried by her not saying anything. Actually, she's been rather quiet (well, words-wise) through this whole thing. He pulls back, smiles lazily before kissing her gently.

"You okay?" he asks, and she nods as she unwraps her leg from around his hip. She brings a hand up to brush the sweat-soaked hair off her forehead.

"I'm excellent," she says quietly, kissing him.

"I know," he mumbles against her lips. "Fuck, that was good." She holds him tighter, kisses him again. He's sure she's trying to kill him, because she clenches around him and he has to groan. "I gotta move."

She gives him this exaggerated pout and these puppy dog eyes, and he laughs quietly, but still pulls out and rolls onto his back next to her. She tries to move, but he grabs her waist and keeps her there with him.

"Noah," she whispers. She sounds shy or embarrassed or something, so he opens his eyes. "I really should go...freshen up."

The wolfish grin he gives her doesn't exactly make her as annoyed as she tries to make herself look. She kisses his arm, just because it's right there, and gets up, and she knows he's watching her as she walks to her bathroom and closes the door most of the way.

She looks at her body in the mirror. It's strange, but she feels different than she did even an hour ago. She feels like something's clicked into place, and that's just ridiculous, isn't it? There's no such thing as love at first sight, and she knows there's no such thing as love at first...embrace. She's not in love with him anyway. She just thinks that maybe if they actually did become something, she definitely could see herself falling for him. It's unreal, the things he just made her feel. She was _begging_ him to let go inside her, which is not only something she's never asked for, but something she's never, ever, not once allowed. (Not that she didn't thoroughly enjoy it.)

She cleans herself up and grabs a hair elastic so she can pull her hair up into a ponytail. She's got a faint bruise forming on her hip and a red mark on her breast she doesn't even remember him putting there. The insides of her thighs are red and her lips are swollen from kissing. She looks freshly ravished, and it's rather scandalous that she finds herself smiling because of it.

She shamelessly steps back into the bedroom, still completely naked, and finds Noah laying beneath her covers waiting for her.

"Good?" he asks when he sees her. He pulls back the sheets for her and she sees that he's still naked, too. She's actually very glad for that. She nods and lays down next to him, curling into his arms. He runs his fingertip over the hickie on her breast. "I do this?"

She laughs and looks at him. "Who else would have?" she giggles.

"Don't remember doing it."

"Me neither," she says, and they both laugh. She drapes her leg over his hip and he lets out a noise from the back of his throat.

"Careful," he warns her. She slides her hand down his body and wraps her hand around him again. "Rachel." After she's stroked him a few times and got him hardening in her hand, he opens his eyes again and pulls her to him so he can kiss her. "We gotta talk about this."

She runs her palm over his tip and smiles triumphantly when he moans and tightens his hold on her. "I know. We will," she promises. She slings one leg over him and continues working him with her hand. "After."

Coolest woman ever. He's convinced.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Last chapter! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting.

... ... ...

Rachel wakes up and pulls herself out of bed carefully, trying not to wake him as he sleeps completely naked on his stomach. Leaving this bedroom would be much, much easier if he wasn't quite so ridiculously gorgeous. He's sleeping right now, and she definitely does not want to be putting on more clothing. Still, she slips on a pair of panties and a thin tank top, and grabs her robe from the hook on the back of her bathroom door, ties it around her waist. She casts a glance his way before she leaves the room. He hasn't moved an inch. It's scary, how comfortable he is in her bed, in her room. She's comfortable with him there, too, but that's a whole other set of issues.

The truth is, she's probably falling for him. She had all these feelings before yesterday, before last night. Everything was so much simpler when she could pretend nothing was going to happen, when she had the strength to resist him. Even though that was slipping, it was there, at least a bit. Then yesterday happens and she's falling into bed with the one man who's as close to off-limits as a man can be without having a ring on his finger.

She doesn't regret it. She can't. She likes him too much and he's too amazing to regret it. She tugs the door closed gently and heads down the stairs. She needs coffee. And possibly a Tylenol for the ache deep in her muscles.

... ... ...

Puck wakes up and reaches out for someone who isn't there.

Shit. So this is what that feels like.

He pushes himself up a bit, lays on his side and blinks away sleep as he looks around the room. Her side of the bed is cold and empty, and he hates it. He fell asleep with a naked lady and that's how he should have woken up. It's not like he's some random hookup for her and she snuck away so she didn't have to talk to him in the morning. He's her roommate (or something). She shouldn't be giving him the slip. It's not like they're not going to see one another.

Shit, he doesn't know about her, but last night was the most fun he's had in ages. Months. Not even just the sex, which was fucking stellar, but everything else, too. How playful she was and how she made sure he was comfortable and pressed herself up against him when they actually decided to get some sleep. And yeah, he has no idea how he's going to have the energy to take care of Violet when she gets home, but between he and Rachel they should manage alright. They always do.

He figures he should go find the girl. She's probably freaking out about this changing their whole relationship or something. Obviously, it does. He's had her now. That changes everything. He's never really been the 'relationship' guy, so he's a little caught off guard by how much he wants to be in one with Rachel. What can he say? She's just the kind of woman you settle down with. And since he's already practically settled, he might as well explore what he thinks is probably going to be a really good thing.

He walks across the hall to his own room and grabs a pair of basketball shorts, pulls them on quickly. He wonders how long she's been up, but he hears her moving around downstairs, and he can smell coffee. As he makes his way to the kitchen, he realizes he has no fucking clue how to act with her now.

Then he sees her and there's really no question whatsoever. She's, like, crazy hot, standing there, looking out the back window and sipping from her coffee cup. She hasn't noticed him yet, so he stares at her for a few seconds, how she wiggles her toes every so often and flexes the muscle in her calf. How she tucks her loose hair behind her ear. She really is beautiful.

"What's with this?" he asks, and she spins around, looks surprised until she gives him a little smile. "Love 'em and leave 'em type, are you?"

She lets out a quiet laugh and shakes her head, makes her way across the kitchen so she's not too far from him while he pours his coffee. He definitely welcomes the kiss she leans up to give him.

"Good morning," she says quietly.

He smiles. "Woulda been better if I hadn't woken up alone," he says, and he's totally not joking.

"Sorry. I was awake and I didn't want to wake you by tossing and turning."

He takes a sip of his coffee, then raises his brow and smirks at her. "You could have woken me up another way." She blushes. "Oh, tell me you aren't being shy right now," he laughs.

She moves a little closer so she's almost standing directly between him and the counter. "It's been a while since I did the morning after thing," she admits.

"Apparently," he mumbles. "All the best mornings start with sex."

She laughs loudly and sets her mug on the counter when the coffee threatens to spill out. "Is that right?" He nods and she reaches for his hips, pulls him closer then snakes her arms around his neck. His hands are on her waist, and one tugs at the tie of her robe. He slips his hand inside when he gets it undone, looks down to see her in just her panties and a tank top. Nice. "Maybe you should convince me," she says coyly. "Don't you think?"

"Yeah, baby," he says, voice low. "Definitely."

He's surprised when she lets him hoist her up onto the counter. To be honest, he thought she was an 'in bed only' kind of girl. He really, really likes that she's not.

And maybe they're both still exhausted after and their coffee is cold, but he's still convinced it's going to be a good day anyway.

She's looking for her panties, holding her robe closed and looking around frantically because she's completely perplexed by how she could have lost them. She hears Noah laughing and turns around only to see him standing there with the garment hanging off his finger. She's no sooner stepping into them than the doorbell rings. She feels her face flush bright red. She knows how this must look. She's in her pajamas, and he's shirtless, and her hair has to be a mess. It's nearly 11:00 and she's just let him take her on the kitchen counter.

Mrs. Hudson is definitely going to know exactly what went on here. He must sense her concern, because his hand slides down to her ass and he leans down, kisses her cheek and says, "You look fine," into her ear.

Whether or not she should believe him, she does.

Rachel ties her robe and moves away from him (his hand on her behind is a little distracting, to say the very least) so she can go get the door. She looks behind her to see if he's following and if he's bothered to try to find a shirt. He is, and he hasn't. She's very glad she's not the kind of woman who claws at a man's back during sex, or this would be even more embarrassing.

She cards her fingers through her hair one last time before she reaches for the doorknob, and she has to shrug him away as she pulls it open, because he's far too close right now and they need to have a long conversation before they even think of telling anyone, especially any of Violet's grandparents, there's something going on. If they have to say that at all.

He's not thrilled that she's shrugging him off, but he kinda gets it. He's fucking hot, and she's all sexed up and probably craving him already and it must be tough to be around him. Plus they both need to at least appear like they weren't up all night fucking and show that they're, you know, capable of taking care of an infant right now. And he has dibs on shower first.

Actually, he'll probably let her go first. He has his reasons. And not only because he can still smell her on his skin and he doesn't want to wash that away right now. At one point last night, she suggested a shower, but she'd sounded so sexy saying it that he ended up pulling her on top of him and things progressed and...yeah, the shower? Forgotten.

Anyway. He really needs to stop thinking about sex while the woman who's like a second mother to him is standing there with the kid who's like his first born in her arms.

"Hi!" Rachel says, far too cheerily. Violet's face lights up, and Rachel reaches out for her. "How was she?"

"She was wonderful," Carole says. Burt comes up the walkway to the front door and shoots Puck a smile that seems a little too knowing. "We had Kurt and Noel for dinner last night. He just adores her, you know?"

"I didn't know he was in town," Puck says, brow furrowed. Not like he and Kurt were ever best friends or anything, Kurt only comes in from Chicago every so often and he usually calls. In a way he's glad, because he got last night with Rachel instead of two dudes. "He should have called me."

"Oh," Carole says dismissively, pursing her lips and waving her hand, "I told him you wanted the day to yourself, and he definitely wanted to spend time with Violet." Puck nods. He supposes that makes sense, too. "She fussed a little bit around 3:00, but other than that she was fine."

"3:00 in the morning?" Puck asks. It's weird for Violet to wake up much in the night. Carole shrugs one shoulder and Burt walks forward and presses a sloppy raspberry to Violet's cheek. Puck's not sure whose laugh he loves more, Rachel's or Violet's. (Okay, he knows, but the baby wins by only a small margin.) Then it dawns on him that they're still standing practically outside. "Jeez. Come in," he laughs.

"No, no. We need to get going to see Kurt and Noel off," Carole says seriously. "They're driving back in a little bit."

"You should have had them come say hello," Rachel insists. "We would have loved to have had you all for breakfast or something." Puck doesn't know if she's trying to be funny, but he laughs so hard he starts wheezing. "Something funny?" she asks, and her cheeks are so red and fucking adorable he wants to kiss her right here and now.

"No, it's just...She doesn't eat meat, right? So her idea of breakfast doesn't fly for real people," he explains (lies) to Carole and an amused-looking Burt.

Shit. That guy totally knows what's going on. That's the thing about Burt. He's quiet and doesn't say a whole lot, but he fucking knows everything, whether you want him to or not. And he's made a couple comments in the last little while. Just little things, like, _'Rachel's a pretty girl, isn't she?'_ or, _'Well, seems like you and Rachel spend a lot of time together.'_ Not like that shit isn't true, but still. So he just gives Burt a look while Rachel and Carole start making plans for 'family dinner' soon. He's pretty sure Burt won't spill anything.

Not that Puck cares either way.

Anyway, Carole and Burt leave, and Rachel has Violet in her arms and waving at her grandparents. Puck thinks that's cute as hell, and when he touches Rachel's back as the car pulls out of the driveway, she pulls away from him a little too quickly. That's weird, since he's seen and touched almost every part of her by now, and in a hell of a lot less. But whatever. He follows her into the living room and checks her out as she sets Violet on her little play mat and pulls out some toys for the girl to occupy herself with.

"Do you mind watching her? I think I need a shower," she explains, and she does not appreciate the look in his eye right now. "Don't do that."

"What?" he laughs. "I didn't do anything."

"Don't make reference to...to that."

They need to talk. They both know it, and she's not running away from it, but this conversation is not one she wants to have with Violet near them. She doesn't know why, she just thinks it'd be inappropriate.

"I didn't say a word."

She lifts one eyebrow and tries not to smile. He really thinks he can get away with acting innocent. It's almost enough to make her laugh. "You have very expressive eyes," she says, stepping a little closer. His knuckle comes out and he drags it across the sliver of stomach showing where her robe has draped open. "I like your eyes."

His hand slips fully into her robe to curl around her waist. She lets him pull her against him. Actually, she doesn't have much choice in the matter, but she wouldn't try to stop him if she could. His hand slides up her body and she's very nearly appalled when he cups her breast, then runs his thumb over her nipple. She's thankful her back is to the child in the room.

"I like your eyes, too," he says, smirking. Damn, that expression gets her every time.

"That's not my eye."

He laughs a little bit and moves his hand, brings it up to tilt her chin upwards. "I like more than one thing about you," he says. Her heart starts beating hard and she looks at him. "Tits come in pairs, baby."

She pushes him away, half-disgusted, half-amused. She looks to Violet, then back at him, and he nods apologetically, like he knows he shouldn't have just said that with Violet around. "You're kind of disgusting," Rachel says, but she's still laughing as she tightens her robe.

"I know," he says proudly.

She rolls her eyes, and when he kisses her on the forehead before she walks from the room to take her shower, she doesn't stop him. She loves that he's the kind of man who'll kiss a woman on the forehead. Actually, maybe she just loves that she never suspected it of him, and she doesn't think anyone else does either. He's not exactly a closed book. She likes that maybe only she knows this page.

... ... ...

Puck can understand why married couples don't fuck.

At least that's what he's heard.

Seriously, by the time Rachel's done with her shower and they trade off so he can have his, it's past lunch time. (And he's blaming that on Rachel's inability to get herself dressed in anything less than a half hour.) They feed Violet and Rachel makes a quick salad for them, and he eats some chips because he's fucking starved and hasn't eaten anything since practically gorging himself on ribs the day before. And it's not like he's just been sitting around, either. He's been hard at work making Rachel fall apart over and over again. Then, when Violet came home, he was taking care of her.

He's fucking exhausted, basically, and he can see why some couples would just stop having sex.

Sort of. He can't really comprehend how anyone could give up sex. Not so much the point right now.

Rachel yawns and he watches the line of her neck, the way her eyes water a little. She's really pretty. Like, really, really pretty. He's just about to tell her when Vi makes a little squeak and starts twirling her hair. It's a dead giveaway that she's about to fall asleep. It makes him smile every time, since it's so cute.

"Come on, sweetie," Rachel says, lifting the baby up out of her high chair. Vi immediately rests her head on Rachel's shoulder, and she totally catches him looking at them with a stupid smile on his face, but he doesn't really care, actually. "I'm going to put her down."

He nods and stands so he can start cleaning up from lunch. He leans over and kisses Vi on the cheek before she's carried away. Rachel gives him this look over her shoulder like she thinks he's the man. Nice of her to start catching on.

He doesn't really know what's happening here, to be honest. She's not freaking out and neither is he, but she's not acting any differently than she normally would, really. So for the first time in his life, he thinks he's going to be the one to initiate the 'what are we?' convo, and the whole problem is that he has no fucking clue how to do it. He's never stuck around for one of these. Chicks would start to talk about it and want to define everything, and he basically shut that down as quick as possible, cut and run and not look back, because he did not need a girlfriend.

He still doesn't need a girlfriend, but for the first time in a longass time, he really wants one. A specific one with silky hair and seductive eyes and plump lips and an ass that won't quit. And a huge heart and a quirky sense of humour and way more patience than just about anyone he's ever met.

He'd say he's fucked for thinking all that about her, but he really doesn't look at it that way. Who knew all that shit his mom used to spew about him settling down for the right girl at the right time was actually, you know, _not shit_?

He drops the dishes into the dishwasher and heads upstairs, and Rachel is just coming out of the nursery, tugging the door closed most of the way behind her.

"Hey," he says. She smiles and he heads into his room. He fucking loves naps, and he needs one right now. When he turns and sees her standing in his doorway looking nervous, he gives her a look. "You don't need permission to come in."

She laughs softly and looks downward before stepping inside. "I know," she admits.

"We really have to talk," he says before he can stop his stupid self. "I mean, you know."

"I know," she says. She sets the baby monitor on his bedside table, which is kind of dumb, since his room is right next to Vi's, but whatever. Then she lays down on his bed and tucks the pillow under her head. "I'm really tired."

"So am I." She grabs his hand and he knows this conversation is so not happening right now. "Nap with me?"

He grins and lays down behind her, kisses the back of her shoulder just because he can.

The only thing better than a nap, apparently, is a nap with a tiny, little, awesome woman. It's a fact.

... ... ...

When Rachel hears the baby start to stir, she looks over her shoulder to see Noah still fast asleep, lips parted just slightly, lashes playing against his cheeks in a way that makes him look far more delicate than he'll ever be. She can't bring herself to wake him, not when he looked so tired before. Not when she knows exactly how he spent the night before. So she carefully slips out of his hold and stands, smiles as she watches him turn onto his back and try to get comfortable like that. He really is unfairly gorgeous.

The thought of calling him her boyfriend sends a surge of something unfamiliar and not at all unpleasant rushing through her, and she leans over and kisses the side of his mouth gently. She can't help herself. He doesn't wake up anyway, so she doesn't have to feel guilty about it at all.

Violet starts whimpering a bit, and Rachel can tell she needs changed, so she heads into the nursery and tends to the baby, speaking softly in soothing tones she was starting to think she'd never employ, at least until her life changed so drastically in the matter of a couple weeks. But she loves this job, taking care of this child. It comes easily to her. It's ridiculous to think it, but she'd love to eventually (eventually and with no specific man) have a baby of her own. It's silly girlish instinct that has her thinking Noah's eyes would be gorgeous on a little girl, his bone structure perfect for a little boy.

They aren't even a couple and she's thinking about future children they may have. She hates herself for it.

She peeks into his room when she's got Violet toddling in front of her, and he's laying there awake on his bed.

"'S'a mean habit for you to get into," he says sleepily, looking at her.

She smiles and lifts Violet up onto the bed. "She was up. I was coming back." The lazy smile he gives her is probably more honest than he wants it to be. "You're half asleep," she laughs when he lays back against the pillow, pulling Violet with him and curling her up on his chest.

"Someone kept me up all night."

She bites her lip and feels her cheeks flush. "Not all night." It's a weak argument at best. "Are you planning on going back to sleep?"

"Thinkin' about it," he admits. "You think she'll go for it?"

Rachel laughs quietly and looks at the little girl all curled up on top of him, hand fisting his shirt and eyes half closed. "I don't think she'll protest too much," she says.

He grins, blinking slowly as he soothes his hand over Violet's back. He crooks his finger and Rachel bites her lip. "C'mere."

She lays back down on the bed and rests her head on his bicep, where he'd placed it on the pillow for her. "I didn't think we'd be so lazy today."

"'S'fine," he mumbles. She turns on her side and slides her leg over his comfortably, rests her hand on his chest. "Go to sleep."

She does. Easily. It almost scares her how comforting his body heat is, how nice it is to know he's so gentle and caring and quiet sometimes. She really did have things she wanted to do today. Nothing else seems important anymore.

... ... ...

The whole talking thing doesn't really go as planned. Mostly because when they wake up, Vi has a shitload of energy and he ends up in the backyard playing around while Rachel starts on dinner and whatever. He offered to help. He was relieved when she said she didn't need it. What? Playing with an infant is way more fun that chopping vegetables, alright? Anyway, Violet is too crazy to be in the house right now, as evidenced by the fact that she's literally tearing through the yard with a bucket in one hand and her hat in the other. Yeah, she's supposed to be wearing that hat, but you try keeping a stupid hat on a one year old. It doesn't go over so well.

Then after dinner, he cleans up (it's only fair) while Rachel tries to settle Violet down a little bit by playing a little more quietly in the living room. The television is on a low volume, and Puck can hear Rachel laughing and talking with the baby. God, her voice is great. Not even her singing voice, just her speaking voice. And when she talks to the baby, it changes a little bit, gets softer and gentler. It's sexy.

Her dads call, so she shoots him an apologetic look and he just waves her off into the study so she can take the call. She doesn't have to feel bad about that kind of thing at all. Lord knows his mother can talk and Rachel's often left watching the kid.

He starts thinking about shit, though. He's pretty sure that if Rachel was going to, you know, not be on board with them making what happened last night (and this morning) a regular thing, she'd have told him by now. She wouldn't be stringing him along. She wouldn't have napped on his bed with him this afternoon. And she definitely wouldn't have let him kiss her in the kitchen before he started doing the dishes. Or maybe she kissed him. Either way? Not spelling out him getting his ass dumped before the relationship even starts.

She comes out of the study and tells him she talked to Judy after, and that's why she took so long. Not like he cares or anything; she can talk to whoever she wants to talk to. She lays down on her side on the floor with her head in her hand and her elbow supporting her, which is exactly how he's laying just a few feet away in front of her. Violet is between them, focusing hard on fitting all her alphabet blocks into a box that's way too small. He's kind of waiting for her to realize it and start throwing a bit of a tantrum. She's the cutest, most mellow baby ever, until something doesn't work the way she wants it to, then her temper comes out. Kind of like her mother that way.

Rachel goes to help her, but Puck grabs her hand. "Let her," he says. Rachel furrows her brow but listens to him.

Shit, if he'd know all it'd take to get her to listen to him was sleeping with her, he would have tried way harder way sooner. No, he's joking. Mostly.

He yawns and Rachel laughs at him for it. "How on earth are you still tired?"

"How are you not?" he asks. "I gotta try harder next time?"

She lets out a loud laugh and sits up, crosses her legs one over the other. "I don't think that's necessary."

For a second he's confused by what she means, thinks maybe she's telling him there won't be a next time. But then he looks at her and sees the flush on her cheeks and the way she's smiling at him, and he's pretty sure they're gonna go for it again tonight, like, as soon as Vi's in bed.

Fuckin' right.

He's the one who puts Violet to bed when it's time, because she's a little clingy today and she doesn't seem to want him to put her down after he's picked her up. As he's getting her all changed and set up for bed, he hears Rachel come up the stairs and she slips into the room, quickly kisses Violet goodnight, and then tells Puck to go to her room when he's done.

He's not a nervous guy, okay? He doesn't really do nervous. But as he places the baby in her crib and stands there looking down at her, he's kind of freaking out. He knows it's stupid. Things have been cool with Rachel all day, and he knows this conversation they're about to have is going to be fine. He's gonna rock this shit, and he'll be a boyfriend within 20 minutes. With any luck, he'll be a boyfriend getting laid within about 30.

Once he's sure Violet is settled and just about to fall asleep, he flicks on the baby monitor and steps out of the room, smiling as he heads across the hall to Rachel's room. When he walks inside and pushes the door closed, he knows his smile widens when he sees her sitting in her bed, back against the headboard, with her hair in a ponytail. She's wearing some kind of satin thing that looks way better than it probably should, and she's got the sheets neatly turned down over her so they stop just at her hips.

"Hey," he says. He doesn't wait for an invitation before he pulls his shirt over his head.

"Rather presumptuous," she laughs, brow raised. He'd maybe worry more about what she said if she wasn't looking him up and down. When he reaches for his belt, she looks down and bites the inside of her lip. He can see her doing it.

"Want me to go?"

She giggles and shakes her head, and he walks closer to the bed, smirking at the way her eyes go wide when she looks up at him. He unzips his pants when he's standing right next to her, and pushes them off his hips while he leans down to kiss her. Her hands come up to rest on his face while he blindly pushes back the sheets and climbs into bed, then he slips one arm beneath her and moves her with him so she's flat on her back and he's on top of her.

"You smell like Violet," she says as he's pecking her lips gently. But that makes him stop and look at her strangely. He doesn't know what the hell he's supposed to say to that. "No," she laughs. "It's good. It's...kind of sexy."

His fingers toy with the thin satin strap holding up her sorry excuse for a nightgown. "So's this," he tells her.

"This old thing?" she asks coyly, a hint of a fake southern accent coming through. He chuckles low in his throat and kisses her again, shifting a little bit on top of her so they're both more comfortable. "So, it's safe to say our friendship has been effectively ruined."

"Hmm." He's kissing the underside of her jaw. She moves her head so he can reach better, then pushes at his shoulders like she wants him to stop, even though they both know she doesn't.

"Noah." She laughs again, softly, and he pulls back, brushes her hair off her shoulder. "We're already overdue for this conversation."

"Yeah, I know," he agrees. "But it's not like there's much to talk about, right?" Her eyes narrow like she's confused. "I mean, you wanna be together."

"Well, yes, but..."

"Good talk," he interrupts. "Let's get you undressed, 'kay?" She laughs and shakes her head, amused. "What?"

"There's a little more to it than that, don't you think?" she asks. Her hands are running slowly up and down his back and he's always been a sucker for that, so it's a little hard to concentrate. "We have Violet to think about. And the Fabrays and the Carole and Burt."

"Let's not talk about the old people while I'm on top of you, alright?"

She giggles again. "You could move." He shakes his head. She knew this conversation would be interesting. She didn't think they'd have it like this. "If there were to be a breakup, or..."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," he says, a little too nonchalantly for her liking.

She meets his eyes and tries not to look too mad. "When?"

"Shit. I mean if. I mean if, baby," he promises, and punctuates it with a kiss.

Oh yes, this relationship is going to be interesting. It's almost impossible to stay genuinely mad at him. But then she thinks about how quickly he amended that statement, and maybe he's the kind of man who'll do anything to keep her happy. She's obviously not surprised by that in the least. After all, when they weren't fighting, he was rather eager to please.

His hips press down on hers and she realizes she's been thinking for a few moments too long.

"I'm just already so overwhelmed with work and Violet and everything else," she says seriously. "I don't need any more stress."

"What's stressful?" he asks, like she's insane to even think it. "We're easy, right? I mean...shit, Rachel, we get along like peas and carrots."

Rachel lets out a loud laugh and can't help but kiss his cheek. "You just quoted Forrest Gump to me."

He laughs, too, his breath hitting her lips before he kisses her. "You love that movie."

"You're ridiculous." She's almost positive he didn't just quote the movie because she likes it, but she's not going to call him on it, because he's just _so_ sexy when he's like this, honest and open with her. "We need to talk about things when they happen. We're good when we talk."

"Talking. Got it."

"And we should probably tell people sooner rather than later," she says. He looks at her questioningly. "To be honest, I don't think it'll be any surprise to them." He laughs and shakes his head. "I just don't want them finding out from someone else."

"Makes sense."

She smiles up at him. She's impressed with his restraint right now, but she can feel him hard between her thighs and she knows this conversation, now that they've already established what they are, is not his number one priority.

"You just want to get this over with so we can have sex," she says.

"Baby, it's the _best part_," he insists.

Oh, yes. She's definitely going to fall in love with this man.

... ... ...

So, it's kind of messed up that they have four sets of parents to tell. He's laying in Rachel's bed watching her get dressed for the day before they go get Violet out of bed. They've been a couple for a little over a week and despite her telling him she wanted to tell everyone basically as soon as possible, she's been the one stalling. He doesn't give a shit. He'll tell them all right now. She just wants to do it in person, at least for the Fabrays and Mrs. H. and Burt. He gets that, he supposes, but he doesn't really get what the big damn deal is. It's not like them being together is going to change how they take care of Vi. Yeah, it'd suck if they broke up, but they're mature and whatever, and honestly, he's not really worried about it.

His mom nearly lost it when he told her. She came out for the day to watch Vi for a couple hours when he had to go to the dealership, and he ended up telling her over lunch. Considering how much she hated Rachel in the beginning, she's pretty fucking excited about this. Apparently she just knows him and knows that _'this, with Rachel, is real'_. And yeah, it is, but damn, she didn't have to squeal and hug him and stuff. But then again, he hasn't 'brought a girl home' (meaning, ever told his mom anything at all) in a longass time, so she's probably pretty aware of how serious things with Rachel are.

Rachel tells her dads over the phone and they laugh and tell her she's kind of a cliché, but Puck thinks they mean that, you know, with love. They've said they'll come for dinner soon, and Puck's actually kind of stoked about it. He likes them. They're awesome dudes and they raised one hell of a daughter, so he could probably learn shit from them, you know?

But the Fabray's and Mrs. H. and Burt are coming for dinner tonight, and even though he's basically cooking everything, Rachel's totally freaking out. There's a dress on the back of her closet door she's had dry cleaned _twice_, and she's already all high strung and the dinner isn't even for like, another 13 hours.

"Rachel," he says from where he's laying, "can you, like, breathe or something? 'Cause you're freaking me out."

"Well, yes. I'm the one with a mediated session in two hours. You're laying there naked!"

"Hey. I'm wearing a strategically placed sheet," he says, grinning.

"Don't be cute," she snaps. She smiles a little bit, though. "I can't deal with you being cute right now."

He laughs and waves her over. She rolls her eyes. "Just get over here. Damn." She does as he asks, sits down on the bed next to him with her necklace in her hands. He takes it from her and she turns around so he can clasp it. "Calm your shit, alright? Everything's gonna be fine."

"You keep saying that. How can you know that?" she asks, turning to face him.

Her blinds are open and the room is filled with sunshine, and she's in this light grey suit he loves. Her makeup is all light and pretty, and she just sprayed her perfume, so she smells fucking amazing.

"'Cause we're sexy," he says, running his hand up the inside of her thigh beneath her skirt. She scoffs and stands, and then he's legitimately pouting at her and flopping back against the pillows.

She puts her hands on her hips, raises her brow and does this thing where he can tell she doesn't want to smile, she just can't help it. "So no one is going to have any reservations about our romantic relationship, simply because we're attractive?" she asks.

He shrugs his shoulder. "Yeah. Don't you know by now that things always work out for sexy people? It's like, law or something."

She laughs loudly and walks over to the bed, puts one knee on the mattress and leans down to kiss him. She pulls away and slips her feet into her shoes. "You realize you're talking to a lawyer, right?" she asks, still giggling. He shrugs again. Obviously he doesn't care. "Your insane logic, which isn't actually logic at all...I don't even know what to do with you." He ticks up his brow and starts pulling the sheet away. "Don't!" she cries, laughing. "I have to go to work, and you have to get up and tend to Violet."

"Fine." He groans exaggeratedly and gets up out of bed. She seems frozen in place as he walks towards her, totally naked. It's just that his boxers are in the pile of clean laundry on her chair in the room and he has to pass her to get them. If he smacks her ass on the way by, that's just...Well, it is what it is.

"You're a ridiculous man," she says, shaking her head as she watches him pull on his boxers and a pair of sweats. She still comes over and kisses him, though. "I'm leaving the office early, so I'll be home by 5:00. I'll pick up wine on the way home."

"Gotcha," he says as they walk from the room. He pushes open the door to the nursery and Violet is standing up in her crib, waiting for someone to get her. "I'll see you later."

Rachel kisses the baby's forehead and smoothes a hand over her head. "Have a good day."

"You, too." Rachel's hand slides down his arm and he winks as she walks from the room. God, she's gorgeous. He seriously has, like, the most awesome setup ever. He lifts Violet up out of her crib so he can carry her over to her change table. "C'mon, baby girl. We've got a big day. Lots of stuff going on."

If anyone were to make fun of him for talking to Violet so much, he'd tell them to fuck off. It's good for her and stuff, and she's cute as hell when she recognizes his voice and smiles.

... ... ...

Their confession, or explanation, however you'd like to say it, goes over so well it's almost scary. According to Judy, Quinn had been talking for years about setting Rachel and Noah up, and was very disappointed when their date all those months ago didn't pan out. Burt just chews his steak and says he knew it all along, that Puck couldn't live in a house with a girl like that and not get involved, and Carole tells them it's great that they've found each other.

No one voices any concerns, and at first Rachel is afraid that means they're just all processing the information or they don't want to be rude. Then it dawns on her (well, Noah explains to her) that they're very good together and it's easy to see how good a team they are. She supposes that's nothing but the truth. They are amazing together. She's been trying to avoid admitting to herself just how amazing, since she's absolutely terrified of being in love with him before he's in love with her. Wouldn't that just be the worst thing?

Well, probably not. But it's only been a week and a half, and she's not going to let herself get carried away. She's not going to let herself exaggerate this relationship in her head and unknowingly sabotage the whole thing.

"Stop thinking so hard," Noah says from behind her as she lays in bed. She turns and he pulls her close, curls her up against him, and she's glad he's touching her now.

She doesn't exactly know how he can tell she was thinking when it's dark and she wasn't even facing him. She bites her tongue to keep herself from asking, just lets his thumb trace a line back and forth over her shoulder as she finally falls asleep.

... ... ...

Rachel's firm has a picnic towards the end of the summer, and she doesn't think twice about bringing him and Violet along. It's a family thing, and it's at her boss' huge house about a half hour away. There are games and all sorts of stuff, and Puck thinks it's probably going to be pretty lame, but whatever. It's for her work, so he sucks it up and throws on a decent-looking shirt and gets behind the wheel. Rachel has shit directions and she's kind of freaking out, but his keen sense of direction leads them to the right place.

You know, the massive house with all the cars parked in front of it and a big sign saying it's Some Asshole, Some Other Asshole, & Yet Another Asshole's company picnic. Rachel hisses at him for calling it that, but whatever. Her firm always sounds so fucking pretentious. When he finds out she's gone to the picnic since she first started at the firm, he makes fun of her relentlessly for not remembering where this house is.

But then they're on this massive lawn with like, 100 other people, and Violet's acting shy for some reason, so he's got her in his arms and Rachel's immediately dragging him over to introduce him to people he doesn't care about whose names he'll never remember. But he at least makes it look like he's making an effort, because he owes it to her and he's getting a free lunch out of this whole thing.

He's gotten really good at reading her. They're talking to her assistant and she's all light and laughing and casual. Then they're talking to some middle-aged asshat with one of those stupid Lacoste shirts on and a gin and tonic in his hand, and she's tense and businesslike, and he's pretty sure this is what she's like at the office, too. So he tells her Violet needs changed, because it's true, and this way if she wants an out from this conversation she has it. She gives him this look like she's about to kiss him for getting her away from Douchey McLameo, and takes Violet from him.

So he's stuck with Douchey McLameo. Turns out buddy bought his car from the dealership, though, so they actually have something to talk about for a few minutes before Puck sees Rachel waving him over to where she's standing.

"That was fuckin' cold, baby," he says into her ear when he knows no one can hear. She laughs and tries to look innocent, and he kisses her cheek, because she's really cute, actually.

They find a place to sit on the grass when it's time to eat, and Puck's pretty sure they're supposed to be, like, socializing or something, but Rachel seems perfectly happy to just sit there the three of them, with Violet in her lap and Puck feeding the girl those rice crackers she loves. He laughs when a half-chewed blob of cracker falls out of Violet's mouth onto Rachel's arm, and, since they're both pretty immune to shit like half-eaten food these days, Rachel just picks it up and throws it at him, and all three of them are laughing.

Puck doesn't even notice the woman standing nearby until she comes over and kneels down in her khaki pants and crisp white shirt. "I just had to tell you, that is a beautiful baby," she says, reaching out for Violet's hand, shaking it a little bit.

"Thank you," Rachel says, because they get these comments often enough, and they've decided that's the easiest answer. Puck can tell this woman doesn't work at the office and that Rachel obviously has no idea who she is.

"How did you two end up with such a blonde little girl?" the woman asks with a laugh.

Puck chuckles and looks at Rachel, who gives him a smile before turning back to the woman. "It's a very long story," she answers diplomatically.

Apparently it doesn't mean anything to these people that neither he nor Rachel is wearing a wedding ring.

Not that he thinks too much about wedding rings or how Rachel's hand would look wearing one.

... ... ...

She tells him she loves him one night when she's sure he'll say it back. She was kind of unsure until she lost a huge case and was reprimanded by her boss for the mistake she made (an honest one anyone could have made) that gave the other side the victory. She comes home late, and Violet is already in bed. The house is absolutely spotless and there's dinner and a glass of wine waiting for her on the coffee table in the living room. She had no idea when she called him from the road to tell him she'd be home soon that he'd do all this.

She hates that her first reaction is to cry, but that's what happens. She kicks off her shoes and drops her bag while he looks at her, mostly helpless.

"What's wrong?" he asks, walking over to where she's standing in the doorway to the living room. He slides his hands up and down her arms and looks at her worriedly.

"Nothing," she says, even if it's not convincing whatsoever. He's looking at her like he needs more of an answer. "Today was just awful, and I hated it, and then I come home and...You're so wonderful."

He smiles a little and leans forward to brush his lips across her forehead. "I just knew you'd be hungry." Now it's her turn to look at him disbelievingly. "It's nothing. Stop crying."

She wipes her tears and lets him lead her to the couch as she slips her suit jacket off her shoulders and drapes it over a chair. "Thank you," she says, kissing his cheek.

He points to the plate on the table and says, "eat," like she wasn't just crying and he isn't nearly as amazing and thoughtful as he is.

She picks up her plate of food and tucks her legs up next to her on the sofa, leans herself against his side while his arm is draped over the back of the couch. "What do you want to watch?"

And it's completely absurd, but that's when she knows he loves her, too. She shouldn't base her knowledge of that on television, but he's watching a baseball game, and the Indians are down by one in the ninth inning. The bases are loaded and there are two outs. He wants to watch the end of this game, and yet he's telling her she can switch the channel. He's not complaining or telling her,_ 'when it's over'_, or anything like that.

She places her fork on her plate and turns to him, looks up to see him looking back at her.

"I love you," she says, and she shouldn't be so amazed at how good it feels to say it.

But the grin he gives her practically makes her heart beat in her ears.

He says the words back, and they're punctuated by the crack of a bat. He doesn't even look at the television, just leans in and kisses her and slips his hand into her hair so his fingertips are gently massaging her scalp like they both know she loves.

The Indians have just pulled off their most amazing win of the season, and her boyfriend's attention is solely on her.

... ... ...

She looks really fucking cute in her baggy painter's jeans (that she actually bought new, because she's a little psycho that way) and one of his old button down shirts with her hair up and in a messy knot thing, a white headband keeping it off her face. The girl's sexy all the time, but this is a good look for her. Really good.

He walks up behind her and curls his hand around her hip. She tenses, startled, and he presses kisses to her neck.

"You know, you shouldn't sneak up on someone holding a hammer. That could have been very painful," she says. She's not really mad, though. He can always tell.

"Why do you even have a hammer?" he asks, laughing, and she turns around.

"I don't know," she admits. Damn, she's cute. "I thought I might need it."

"You don't," he insists, taking it from her and dropping it into the toolbox he's got open.

The decision to move into the master bedroom was mutual. It's been long enough since Finn and Quinn passed that Rachel's not still holding on, and Judy and Mrs. H. came to clean out the closet and the rest of the room, taking what they wanted and donating the rest. Personal things were kept, like jewelry and stuff like that. Quinn's wedding and engagement rings are in a safety deposit box with all of the other valuables that were left for Violet. Judy gave Rachel Quinn's set of pearls, and Mrs. H. gave Puck Finn's Omega watch. It was kind of a weird day, but it was good for all of them, for sure.

They've ordered new furniture, because there's no way he's sleeping on the same bed Finn and Quinn did stuff in. He loves Violet, but he doesn't need to know he's sleeping where she was conceived. That's just plain weird. He was all for just taking the stuff from Rachel's room or his room and moving it in there, but Rachel wanted all new stuff, so they're getting all new stuff.

Violet is currently spending the day with Matt, which is fucking terrifying. Dude's got nieces and nephews, though, so Rachel's convinced it'll work out fine. Puck's got Mike on standby to stop in spontaneously and check shit out. Call him paranoid, but this is his girl he's talking about.

Picking a paint colour for the walls led to like, the biggest fight he and Rachel have had since they got together. Sorry, light purple? No. He's not dealing with that shit. He's a _dude_. He wanted a kick ass dark grey, but Rachel called it sterile, and he was pissed at her for ever using that word in reference to anything that had to do with him. She didn't talk to him for two days when he told her if she didn't fuck off with her girly colours, he was going to go back to sleeping in 'his' room again.

Lesson learned. Don't make empty threats. She'll make you follow through on them. And you know how shitty it is to sleep in a bed alone after sleeping next to a hot woman for months? It sucks. The make up sex was awesome, though, when he told her he didn't want to sleep without her anymore.

Anyway, they settled on this light grey that she insists looks purple in certain lighting, but it doesn't and she's crazy. He's not pointing that out to her, because he's _not_ crazy. It goes with their furniture and the shit Rachel's picked out as 'accents', so it's cool. Now they're getting down to painting. There are a couple pictures left on the wall that they have to take down. There's one of a creepy looking woman in a stupid dress dancing with some douchebag in tails. And then there's that napkin Rachel's told him all about, and she's standing there looking at it like she doesn't want to take it off the wall.

"Rach."

"Yes?" She spins around quickly to look at him. "I'll take it down. I was just thinking."

"Alright," he says, because he knows by now that if she says she's going to do something, she's going to.

She pulls the frame down off the wall and rests it against her left arm as she takes the back off with her right hand. He has no clue what she's doing, but she looks completely determined, and he steps a little closer. She hands him the back of the frame and pulls the cardboard matting away, passing it to as she starts laughing, her hand covering her mouth.

"It is here," she says quietly after a couple moments. She runs her fingers over the napkin and he looks down. "That night, I made a list, too."

"Oh." (What the hell else is he supposed to say?)

"I was...well, I was a little drunk, so I couldn't remember if it was on a different napkin or if we'd shared."

"Not a shock that you shared," he says, kissing her cheek.

"I can't believe I forgot." She's talking more to herself than to him, so he doesn't say anything. He watches as she picks up the napkin, and he doesn't know what she's doing until she flips it over and makes sure it's centered, then takes back the matting, puts it in place, and secures the back of the frame. "There." He looks at the finished product, the same as it started out, just a little different. "Did you read it?" she asks. He shakes his head and tries to read her obviously drunken scrawl. "It's you."

He gets to the end of the list, and yeah, it's completely messed up, but it's a pretty damn accurate outline of who he is. "That's fucked," he almost whispers. Seriously, the universe is tripping him out with this whole thing.

"I wanted you before I met you," she says, turning around so she's facing him.

"I get that all the time."

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "Could you maybe not ruin every moment we try to have?"

"Sorry, baby." He laughs a little and leans in to kiss her, hand slipping up underneath the shirt she's wearing. She pulls away before he can get too far. "C'mon. We got work to do here."

They're both practically passing out by the time Matt brings Violet back home. Puck's half-asleep on the bed in Rachel's (what's been practically 'their') room, so he elects Rachel to go downstairs and get the door and bring the kid up. It's later than they thought it'd be, since painting is a pain in the ass and the job got a little bigger when Rachel decided she wanted to do the bathroom, too, and they had to go back to the store and not only buy paint, but pick a colour. She's lucky he loves her, or he wouldn't put up with that shit.

She walks into the room with a tired-looking baby in her arms, and he smiles lazily. Violet's got her eyes open and she's looking at him, smiling a bit as Rachel sits down on the bed. He pulls Violet away from Rachel and all three of them are laying down, the baby in the middle. He tries to get Violet to talk about her day with Matt, but she's too sleepy (it's really damn cute) to give him more than one or two word answers, then she curls all up against him and closes her eyes.

"She's so exhausted," Rachel says quietly. "So am I."

"Hmm," Puck hums, eyes closed as he lays on his side.

"If we sleep now, we'll be up all night."

"Shh. 'S'fine," he says. He opens his eyes to look at her, and smiles at the little streaks of paint in her hair, the fact that she's gorgeous right now and she's not wearing a stitch of makeup. "Just a little rest."

Rachel turns on her side so she's facing him, and he grabs her hip, tugs a bit and she moves so she's as close as she can be without crushing Violet. He looks across the pillow at his girlfriend and her eyes are closed. He's got his hand on the curve of her waist, and his arm is hovering just above Violet's stomach. Violet's little fist reaches up and grabs a handful of Rachel's shirt. It might be the cutest thing he's ever seen. He just smiles and closes his eyes.

Yeah, he doesn't know what he ever did to deserve these two girls in his life, but he's pretty sure his buddy's somewhere right now with a big ol' smile on his face.

_**-Fin-**_


End file.
